Kiss With A Fist
by HWoolf
Summary: There were three things that Rachel hadn't planned on happening during her first week of junior year: that her 'Fresh Start' plan would fall to pieces, that she'd send an innocent person to a crack house, and that she'd get kissed by Quinn Fabray by the end of it. Chaos ensues.
1. Kiss With A Fist

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee and I'm not making any money from this.

 **Summary:** There were three things that Rachel hadn't planned to happen on her first week of junior year: that her 'Fresh New Outlook' plan would fall to pieces, that she'd send an innocent person to a crack house, and that she'd get kissed by Quinn Fabray by Friday. Chaos ensues.

 **Author's note:** This story is set in their junior year of high school (back in the good old days) and follows canon up until the beginning of season 2. I've had this written for a very long time and after watching an old Glee I thought I'd publish it, so updates should be frequent. This is just for fun, but constructive criticism/comments are very welcome. The name of the story and this preface is after the song 'Kiss With A Fist' by Florence and the Machine.

* * *

 **Kiss With A Fist**

Prologue

"You're a coward, Quinn Fabray."

And with that, Quinn Fabray's fist powered into Kurt Hummel's face.

For the briefest moment after the boy's cashmere sweater met with the dirty floors of the McKinley High hall, the gawping crowd surrounding the three students shared a collective gasp that quickly transformed into a stunned silence, waiting for someone to make the next move.

They didn't have to wait long.

" _Quinn!"_

Everyone's attention quickly returned to Rachel Berry, now shaking with anger as her dainty fists balled at her sides.

The furious blonde turned her attention from Kurt (who was simply holding his cheek in shock) back to the small brunette behind her, and for just a moment, the ice in those blazing hazel eyes melted into something that almost looked warm. It was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, and most of the students watching that day did.

Before the smaller girl could get out another word, the head cheerleader shoulder-checked her into a locker. "Get out of my fucking way, Chewbacca," she hissed, storming down the hall and out of sight.

Suffice it to say, everyone in the blonde's path was quick to do just that.

* * *

 _One Month Earlier_

One week into junior year and Rachel's 'Fresh Start' plan had already gotten off to a _terrible_ start. Somewhere in the last five days, 'tone down the limitless ambition somewhat in order to allow bonding with fellow Glee clubbers' had turned into 'direct the new girl to a crack house to stop her from taking your spotlight'. Not only that, but in sending Sunshine to that crack house she'd also alienated Finn, whom she'd also hoped to remain close with as part of her 'Fresh Start' plan after their breakup over the summer.

It also didn't really help matters that, except from perhaps the occasional kindness from Puck, Finn was her only real friend in the school. She'd made progress with Kurt, Mercedes, Artie and Tina towards the end of their sophomore year, but that progress seemed to dissipate as soon as summer landed and she wasn't invited to a single thing the four had planned (and she _knew_ they had them because she'd seen them on Facebook!).

Admittedly, sending a promising new Glee member to a crack house probably wasn't the best way to amend that.

Sighing, she placed her gold star-studded pink folder into her locker, sent a quick smile to the photo of her Dads hanging on the inside of her door, and turned to head to the cafeteria for lunch. Only two more hours of the week to go before she could spend the weekend wallowing in Barbra.

"You're in my way, Manhands."

All of a sudden, Rachel's back met harshly with the metal door she'd just shut behind her.

In front of her stood newly reinstated head cheerleader Quinn Fabray, a small (but largely evil!) smirk spreading across her beautiful pale face. Before holding her head high to face her tormentor, Rachel made a mental note that thinking your bully is beautiful just after they'd shoved you into a locker is probably a _very_ concerning sign of Stockholm Syndrome.

"Hello, Quinn. I'm sorry that you _think_ I'm in your way," she said carefully, "Now, I really must get going. My vegan meal in the cafeteria often gets thrown in the trash if I don't hurry and I need to finish an assignment I have due for next period."

Truthfully she had no such assignment due (technically she did, but she'd really finished it the night Ms Hawthorne set the assignment) but she needed to deescalate and remove herself from this situation as soon as possible, because Quinn Fabray? Quinn Fabray, in all her stunning but evil glory, was the final but foremost reason her 'Fresh Start' plan was failing miserably.

It was no secret a year ago that Quinn Fabray revelled in torturing Rachel Berry probably even more than she revelled in being at the top of the pyramid. But after the babygate scandal things started to change: the blonde certainly wasn't nice to Rachel, per see, but she didn't go out of her way to mercilessly torment her either. Rachel had it down to having bigger things to worry about, like being pregnant, homeless and suddenly at the bottom of the social ladder. Although she never had any doubts that the fearsome blonde would quickly regain her throne post-pregnancy (and that she did, in a 'very Lady Macbethian-manner' as Kurt had put it), she had hoped that things wouldn't revert to the way they used to be and that perhaps, with time, she and Quinn could build a tenuous but beautiful friendship. She'd even baked cookies and arranged morale-boosting Glee numbers for the girl!

She probably should have spent more time wondering what was in Quinn Fabray's other hand and not her mind, though, because as the smirking blonde took another step towards her, she noticed a slushie (cherry, at least) in the girl's right hand.

"Oh, you _think_ you're in my way?"

The next fifteen seconds happened very fast: Quinn threw the slushie all over Rachel; the crowd laughed, Santana cackled; Quinn licked her lips before smirking all the wider, and Rachel, without a second thought, gathered some of the red slush in the cup of her hand and launched it straight into Quinn Fabray's face.

Suddenly, the laughter in the hall stopped dead. Apart from Santana's – that just seemed to get louder.

Quinn, for her part, was obviously too shocked to speak. Rachel could understand that: four years of constant torment and she'd _never_ done anything like this before. In fact, no one has _ever_ done anything like that to Quinn Fabray before (not _this_ Quinn Fabray, anyway).

Taking advantage of Quinn's shocked silence, Rachel took a step forward and held her head high, ignoring the harsh chill of the ice against her skin. "Quinn Fabray, I am sick of this! Your barbarous behaviour has to end!" Despite a few of the ignoramuses in the crowd giggling at 'barbarous', she continued, "I understand that now you are once again head cheerleader you may feel the need to remind everyone that you haven't lost your touch - as shallow as I think that might be – but I am your fellow team mate and I cannot _fathom_ why it is you insist on going after me like you do!" She chose to ignore the gloop of red slush melting on the blonde's right cheek and continued, "We've only been back at school for five days and you've slushied me on every single one of them! Not to mention all the shoulder-checks, nicknames and mysterious trippings in the halls! After everything you went through last year, I would have thought that you would be more mature."

Letting out an indignant huff to signal the end of her rant, she spared a glance to the crowd around them. From what she could see, most people seemed too stunned to express any emotion besides sheer shock (apart from Santana, who was just smirking with a raised brow).

Before she had the chance to turn her attention back to Quinn, she felt the scruff of her collar yanked harshly and realised that the blonde had clearly awoken from her shock.

"Quinn, unhand me!"

It was no good: the taller girl was stronger and, clearly, considerably angrier than she was, and currently dragging her away from the crowd (witnesses!) and down the hall. She wasn't sure what she found more disturbing: the fact that a furious Quinn Fabray was forcibly dragging her to some unknown location (probably death!) or that the usually acid-tongued cheerleader still hadn't uttered a word.

The jeers from the now openly gossiping crowd weren't exactly helping either.

" _Dude, Fabray is literally going to eat Berry alive."_

"Wanky."

" _She's going to fucking kill her!"_

"Who knew Berry had it in her?"

"Did you see the look on Quinn's face? I don't think I've ever seen her look that mad, and I was there the day Kim dropped her from the top of the pyramid."

" _This is amazing, did anyone get a video?"_

" _Do you think someone should…do something? Quinn might literally murder Rachel."_

" _Hell no, she'd also murder anyone that tried to stop her!"_

As the echo of her peers' commentary faded into the distance, Rachel found herself suddenly shoved forcefully into what she knew to be the Cheerios locker room.

Yeah… 'Fresh Start' had gone to hell.


	2. All The Things She Said

**A/N:** Here's the first full chapter. As I said, I wrote it some years ago so just made a few edits. Thank you for the reviews so far, please do keep them coming! The next chapter should be up in a few days max. This chapter is named after the song 'All The Things She Said' by t.A.T.u. - each chapter will be named after a song.

 **Trigger warning:** Bullying (it's a Faberry fic set in high school, so that probably goes without saying) and a kiss that is initially not consented to.

* * *

All The Things She Said

Rachel didn't really have the time to get her bearings of the infamous Cheerios locker room before her back (now soaked from the slushie) met with a row of lockers.

Quinn, who at some point must have wiped the majority of the slushie from her cheek, was stood so close that they were practically sharing breath. Sometime between her rant and being dragged into unfamiliar territory by her biggest tormentor, the courage of Rachel's convictions seemed to drain from her as fast as the slushie was draining from her tights and into her shoes. She gulped.

"Q-Quinn, please be reasonable, I-

"Shut up," the heavy-breathing blonde snapped. _Ah, she speaks._

There was something _very_ off about the taller girl's tone: the usual bite or hint of smugness was gone and replaced by something definitively more terrifying. Rachel just wasn't entirely sure what that was.

"I just-

"I said _shut up,_ Berry!" Quinn's hand slammed against the locker beside Rachel's head; Rachel yelped. Not that she wasn't before, but now she was _literally_ trapped - trapped between an immovable object and a clearly psychotic cheerleader!

"Oh Barbra," she murmured to herself. As she pressed her eyelids together tightly and another trail of slushie slipped down from her back and into her skirt, she thought at least in death there'd be no slushie facials.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Rachel opened her eyes. Quinn's tone took her by surprise: it wasn't full of menace or sickeningly sweet, just eerily quiet. She looked up to study the taller girl's face and was met with an intense hazel gaze she couldn't fathom nor break from. Quinn Fabray as she knew her had obviously left the building.

"Are you _serious_?!" Rachel all but screeched. "All I did was do something that you've been doing to me for _years!_ "

Okay, maybe the anger and indignation was only _temporarily_ subdued by fear, but she's Rachel Berry and, frankly, she wasn't going to let Quinn get away with playing dumb!

"You've never done that before." Still eerily quiet.

"Wow, whoever said that cheerleaders weren't observant? Congratulations, newly reinstated Captain Obvious!"

Wherever Quinn Fabray had gone, Rachel had just woken her up. She didn't really care, though – this Quinn she could recognise, and she was quite proud of her little quip.

"Do you _really_ think you're in a position to talk back to me right now, Manhands?" The taller girl was practically snarling now, and moved impossibly closer to the shivering girl trapped against the lockers in front of her.

"Judging from the cherry slushie seeping down to stain your _perfect_ uniform, it seems like I already have!" Rachel let her face morph into something that must look like slightly uncomfortable smugness: she was freezing and terrified, but simultaneously experiencing a rush that could honestly rival performing.

If she was going to die at the hands of Quinn Fabray, she might as well go down swinging.

"You're dead. Your life here? It's over. If you think it's been bad for you before, you haven't seen _anything_ yet. I'm-

"Psychotic! You're _psychotic!_ " With that, Rachel had fully lost whatever semblance of a temper she had left. Four years of endless torment went flashing before her eyes like a red flag to a bull as she took a step forwards, forcing a visibly shocked Quinn one step backwards. Rachel continued before the blonde had time to recoup, ignoring the slushie flying everywhere as she threw out her arms wildly.

"Why are you so obsessed with me, Quinn? As you have made such a point to make clear over the years, I'm nothing compared to you! I'm ugly, undateable and unpopular; you're beautiful, could have anyone in the school you wanted and, once again, the most popular girl under this roof! I'm no threat to you, and besides being courteous to you; I do my best to stay out of your way! Ever since we've known each other _you_ have sought _me_ out. What is your _problem?_ "

Rachel took a gulp of manic breath having not taken one throughout the duration of her rant. Quinn, for her part, was just gaping at her.

"You tried to steal my boyfriend," the blonde scrambled, obviously trying to harness her usual cat-like insult reflexes.

 _Seriously?!_

"And you'd been harassing me _years_ before Finn even knew my name! Also, I've apologised _countless_ times for that; you've never even shown so much as a hint of remorse for all of the awful things you've done to me!"

The blonde stammered for a moment before taking a threatening step towards the smaller girl, but Rachel wasn't backing down.

"I've never shown any remorse, Manhands, because you're a creepy little dwarf that never shuts up, steals people's boyfriends and dresses like the something out of one of Mr Ryerson's sexual fantasies!"

Rachel actually laughed in the blonde's face – something she'd said to the taller girl must have thrown her off, because she was _really_ losing her touch right now.

"And yet you go out of your way, multiple times each day I might add, just to torture me! You even look up my social media just to taunt me on there too! You could completely ignore my existence if you wanted to or at the very least treat me like you do the others at the bottom of the social ladder at this school, and yet you just keep coming after me!"

The blonde's eyes flashed dangerously and she all but growled, "That's because I fucking _hate_ you."

"Really, Quinn? Because it almost seems as if you're _obsessed_ with me! You'd rather spend time drawing pornographic pictures of someone you hate on bathroom walls and hunting them down-

Her back met the row of lockers only a split second before Quinn's lips met her own. Quick, hard and rough, Rachel felt the soft pink lips of Quinn Fabray clash against her own with an unyielding force.

She'd known already that the lips currently assaulting hers were soft and pink – she'd asked Finn what it was like to kiss them many a time and that was the best description he could come up with – but she didn't know they'd be _this_ soft! Soft but savagely pressing into her own lips, forcing Rachel's balance to become off-kilter (in more ways than one!) whilst simultaneously trying to force the smaller girl's lips to respond.

All logical thought leaving her consciousness, she puckered her lips and, harnessing the little experience she had from kissing Finn, went onto her tiptoes to return the blonde's kiss.

Who cared if this girl had spent the last four years bullying her when her lips tasted like cranberry and the smooth pale skin against hers smelt like the beach and the ponytail in her hands felt like the smoothest silk…

 _Oh Barbra!_ Rachel hadn't even realised that she'd snaked her hand into the luscious blonde locks until the blonde let in a sharp intake of breath.

The surprise of having her kiss returned must have forced the taller girl to respond in kind: what was once bruising force morphed to gentle but firm, and one of Quinn's arms travelled slowly and softly from pinning Rachel's shoulders to the lockers to cupping the back of her neck and pulling her impossibly closer. The other arm stayed where it was for a moment, but then it quickly shot up to run pale fingers through brunette locks when Rachel decided to take a chance and move her lips against Quinn's.

Rachel didn't know what was going on, how she'd found herself pinned to a locker making out with Quinn Fabray, or why this was even happening in the first place. What she _did_ know was that this was the best feeling _ever._

Barbra, Broadway and boys be damned; kissing Quinn Fabray beat them all.

* * *

"-and yet you just keep coming after me!"

She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't _fucking_ believe it.

Berry had never spoken to her like this before. Sure, the smaller girl has given her adorable (infuriating!) indignant rants more times than Coach Sylvester has made fun of Mr Schue's hair, but she's never done _this._ Whether she liked to admit it or not, Rachel's predictability is what kept her feeling comfortable and in control: as long as Quinn could keep the control, she could carry on their relationship the way it's always been and Berry would still probably offer her friendship at graduation. This way, only she could take Rachel by surprise and not the other way around.

She _needed_ that, because Rachel Berry? Rachel Berry and her inherent, exhausting but inextinguishable goodness was the one constant, dependable thing in Quinn's mess of a life. As long as the smaller brunette maintained her enviable resolve, she knew that the girl would move on in the world, become a Broadway star and never think once about Quinn and all the hell she'd put her through.

Her and Rachel could never be friends: if she ever let herself that close to the tiny diva she'd never be able to pull away. Not to mention the fact that her family would have the Berrys exiled from Lima if they could and that her popularity would take yet another blow. She couldn't do that: not after Lucy, not after the pregnancy.

Quinn's house of cards might look perfect to the students of McKinley, but if she ever let herself get close enough to Rachel Berry then that entire hallow, forged mansion would come crashing down. And it made her really _fucking_ angry.

Rachel might be destined for greater things, but Quinn could at least have these four years. She could have four years of at least being _something_ to the smaller girl: the evil blonde with the acid tongue that haunts the bright, shining starlet outcast of McKinley High like a ghost is better than being nothing. If Quinn had to suffer, Berry was sure as hell going to suffer along with her.

Rachel's words were ringing in her ears and ricocheting around her brain. The furious girl in front of her, her clothes now damp and almost see through from the slushie, was getting uncomfortably close to the truth.

Quinn bared her teeth and took a step forwards, only just stopping herself from stamping her own foot just like Rachel had done so many times throughout her little tirade. "That's because I _fucking hate you_ ," she growled.

The blonde could barely even see straight at this point: panic was coursing through her veins as though it were creating thousands of deafening, fluorescent red alarms in her very blood. Before she had any time to regain control of the situation, the tiny brunette took another step towards her.

"Really, Quinn? Because it almost seems as if you're _obsessed_ with me! You'd rather spend time drawing pornographic pictures of someone you hate on bathroom walls and hunting them down-

Suddenly the red and the ringing and the panic had gone. Everything went clear: Rachel, with her manic energy and owl jumper now stuck to her skin was stood in front of her and she _knew._ The memory the girl just referred to flashed into Quinn's mind involuntarily: it was a Monday before she even knew she was pregnant and she'd just seen the infuriating girl in front of her talking to _her boyfriend_ at his locker. Her chest didn't seize and fill with fury when she saw Finn's easy, dumb smile directed at another girl; but it did when she saw Rachel's. Instead of approaching the pair with a cutting insult to Berry like she usually would, she marched into the nearest restroom, terrified some freshman into leaving, kicked a stall door so hard she sprained her ankle and started drawing.

Without thinking, before the brunette could get out another word - because every word was another blow to everything she'd worked so hard for so long to hide – she launched forwards and pushed the girl against the lockers once more.

She hadn't even meant to kiss the girl, but somewhere between her hands accidentally brushing by small, round breasts on their way to (safer) shoulders and inhaling the girl's neck that smelt like vanilla and the only times she's ever felt happy, the blonde just gave in and let her lips crash against Rachel's.

And it felt really _fucking_ good.

She never saw fireworks when she kissed Finn or Puck or any of the other nameless morons she'd put under her spell, but she didn't see fireworks with Rachel either. Fireworks wouldn't do justice to what she was feeling right now. The rush running through her entire body felt only like what she could imagine heroin addicts must feel like when they shoot up or what a warm fire with cocoa feels like at Christmas or what soldiers must feel like when they haven't been home in months.

When she felt the girl trapped beneath her begin to kiss her back, she didn't allow herself to think enough to register the surprise.

She felt small, delicate fingers run themselves through her ponytail and she instinctively moved her arm, once pinning Rachel, to snake behind the girl's neck and pull her closer. She needed _more._ Letting her body take over and her mind take the backseat for the first time in years, she moved her lips against the smaller girl's slowly and gently, wanting this one moment between them to be soft.

Without realising she'd even moved her other hand to Rachel's hair, she lowered it slowly to the girl's chest. "Is this okay?" she just about managed to breathe out, needing to hear her say it. Yes. _Please say yes._

"Yes," Rachel half-breathed, half-moaned before pulling on the blonde's neck once more to reconnect their lips.

Not needing to be told twice, she let both hands brush over the smaller girl's perfect, pert breasts before cupping them delicately, letting her thumbs brush over her nipples (thank God she'd thrown that slushie; the wet owl sweater felt paper-thin under her hands).

At Quinn's actions, the smaller girl nipped the blonde's lower lip and something about the kiss changed. What was once brutal and rough then gentle and delicate turned deep and purposeful. She was going to do it; she was going to add tongue -

The bell signalling the end of lunch rang, forcing the two girls apart with a jolt.

Realisation dawned on Quinn as Rachel's feet met the floor once more with a dull thud and Quinn's hand shot away from the smaller girl's small, round breasts as though they'd been burned. She hadn't even realised that she'd had Rachel's legs wrapped around her until she saw the girl try to regain her balance, and felt a wetness below her own skirt that wasn't a result of the slushie.

She looked at the girl in front of her. The dried cherry slush in her hair had left an obvious indent where Quinn's hands had been, and those small, full lips were bruised. Her own uniform was now covered in cold, icy chunks from the minutes (seconds, hours…?) she'd spent pressed against Rachel.

Quinn stared blankly at Rachel for a minute, all forgotten thoughts rushing back to her at once. Going into autopilot, she ignored the girl before her (Rachel was now trying to speak to her; she couldn't, wouldn't hear what that was) and turned to exit the locker room.

 _Shit!_ Coach would kill her if she saw her walking the halls with a stained uniform, and the only spares she had were in her Cheerios locker. In _this_ room.

Quinn closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow intake of breath, the sound of Rachel still talking only a quiet murmur in the back of her consciousness. It was okay; she could do this. Nobody ever has to know what just happened.

"Get out." She still wouldn't – _couldn't_ – look at Rachel.

She listened just enough to hear the smaller girl sigh, and take what sounded like a small step in Quinn's direction.

"Quinn, please can we just-

"I said get out."

"I really-

" _I SAID GET OUT!"_

She slapped the small brunette's arm away that at some point had extended to place a small hand on her shoulder. She needn't have bothered; the force of her roar sent Rachel stumbling back as if she'd pushed the girl herself.

Maybe she had, she honestly couldn't feel her own limbs enough right now to even notice.

"Q-Quinn, I just-

If she didn't feel as though her world were about to come crashing down, she'd almost have smiled at Rachel's predictable persistence. Instead, she took a slow outtake of breath and shut her eyes, praying for calm. "Rachel," she paused for a moment, both out of shock at the fact she'd used the girl's first name and at the tremble in her voice, "I need you to get out right now before I do something I'll regret. _Leave_."

She didn't even know herself what that would be: beat the girl up, burst into tears, kiss her again…

Quinn pulled herself out of her own mind just enough to hear Rachel, who must now be a couple of meters from where she stood, let out a sniffle. She couldn't let her chest seize the way it did when she heard that the girl must be crying.

"O-Okay, Quinn, I'll respect your wishes." Quinn closed her eyes tighter as they began to burn at the sound of the tears in Rachel's voice. Shouldn't she be used to making the other girl cry by now? "I don't really…I don't really understand what just happened o-or…or how it happened, but please talk to me about it when you feel ready. It…it goes without saying that I won't tell anyone about this."

She couldn't even force out a threat of what would happen to the girl if she did. Quinn just stood there, completely immobile as she listened to small, slow footsteps heading towards the exit of the locker room. She heard them hesitate before the door opened and then shut behind her, but only after she heard the smaller girl let out another sniffle.

A few seconds after the room had nobody left in it but Quinn, the blonde stepped forwards to where she and Rachel had been only moments before and punched one of the lockers with all the force she had. Finally letting the tears burning her eyelids spill down either cheek, she let her back slide down the lockers until she was sat on the floor.

What the _hell_ has she done?

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are very welcome.


	3. 9 Crimes

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews/favourites and follows so far. It's really encouraging and I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it, so please keep them coming! I was never a big Finn fan whilst watching Glee, but I think a mistake the writers made was mistaking the Finn/Rachel chemistry for romance when really it should have been friendship. There will therefore be a Finchel friendship in this fic, but don't worry, it won't take up much!

This is a pretty introspective chapter for Quinn and Rachel after the previous chapter, so this chapter is named after the demo version of '9 Crimes' by Damien Rice. Enjoy!

* * *

9 Crimes

After what happened in the locker room, Rachel walked through the halls of McKinley High looking like one of those things from that barbaric zombie film Finn had made her watch over the summer. People were staring and whispering (news travels fast at McKinley) but she didn't care. Nothing any of them were saying would be even close to the truth anyway.

" _What d'you think Quinn did to her?"_

Rachel almost laughed – if only they knew.

 _"Berry looks fucked up; it must have been bad."_

"She isn't bleeding or anything."

"There's no way Fabray would be dumb enough to leave proof, though. Berry's dads would probably have some gay army sent to the school or something."

" _Dude, some freshman accidentally spilt their drink on Quinn once in the cafeteria and he had to transfer a couple weeks later because he was getting thrown in dumpsters three times a day. I'm surprised Berry's even-_

She stopped listening. Nobody sounded concerned, just desperate for gossip. Reaching her locker, she took a deep breath and willed herself to stay calm. She might have just been kissed and felt up by someone that's been nothing but cruel to her, but she had one more class to get through.

 _A class that Quinn is also in! Oh Barbra!_

What on earth was she going to do? She could barely even think straight; cherry slush was now dried over almost every inch of her body; her lips were still tingling from having Quinn's on them and she was uncomfortably we-

"Rachel?"

She jumped and let out a squeal. Finn.

The tall boy had appeared at the locker beside her. He was leaning against it easily, a small concerned frown upon his large face. "I, uh, I heard that something happened with you and Quinn. That she, like, dragged you off somewhere and that…you slushied her or something."

Rachel just stared at him blankly. Seeing Finn right now was the last thing she needed!

Finn, for his part, looked perplexed as to why Rachel hadn't yet launched into an explanatory rant. His frown deepened and he tried again, "I just, like, wanted to make sure you were okay or whatever."

Rachel tried to clear her mind and focus on the present – something proving increasingly difficult when she could practically still _feel_ Quinn's slender hands touching her where no one else ever has before and-

"Uh, Rachel?"

Her eyes snapped back up to the boy in front of her. Right. Finn. Finn, who she'd broken up with only three weeks ago. Finn, whose ex-girlfriend she'd just spent the lunch period making out with.

"Hello, Finn," she tried, utilising her years of acting experience. If Barbra could be the first woman to write, produce, star and direct in a major film then she could at least pretend that her whole world hadn't turned upside down for the next few minutes. "Yes, Quinn and I had one of our usual altercations and I…I lost my temper somewhat. She did indeed drag me away, but the interaction did not go beyond anything verbal." She felt her cheeks redden at that last part. "Apart from some shoving," she added quickly, just to make it realistic.

Finn tried to both smile in relief but maintain his frown at the same time. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she realised that Santana had a point about the boy sometimes looking constipated.

"Oh, cool."

"Yes, well, as you can see, I am still covered in slushie and it's becoming rather uncomfortable, so I should probably…sort that out."

Finn looked her up and down, as if he'd failed to notice that she was covered head to toe in a dry, sticky liquid. "Oh, right, yeah. Do you, like, need any help or anything?"

Rachel allowed herself to offer the tall boy a small smile. Despite their breakup, he was still at least trying to be nice to her (although she had the suspicion that he was still trying to win her back). Just as she was about to decline his offer, she realised that she'd used up all her spare outfits this week after being slushied so many times by Quinn.

"Actually, if you had a shirt of some kind that I could borrow then that would be extremely helpful," she murmured, her eyes dropping in embarrassment. It was times like this that having a female friend would be useful.

"Oh, yeah, sure! Let me just grab something from my locker."

She gave the boy a smile – the kindest smile she could muster right now, at least – before watching him jog down the hall. Allowing herself to slump back against the locker, she took a deep breath and watched the remaining students rushing to their next class but tensed up once more when she heard a sharp cackle travel down the hall.

Brilliant. Just _brilliant._ She could recognise that cackle anywhere, and knew that in the next few seconds Santana Lopez would be walking past her, almost certainly with some snarky comment about her height or clothes that she did _not_ need right now.

 _Oh, Barbra!_ Quinn's probably already texted the entire Cheerios squad telling them that Rachel was some lesbian pervert that tried to attack her or something!

Expecting an insult or accusation of being a lesbian predator at any moment, she braced herself for impact.

It never came.

She watched Santana through her peripheral; the Cheerio was chatting to Brittany in a hushed tone, and only spared Rachel a small, strange glance. She'd never even seen that look on Santana's face before. What the _hell_ was going on today?!

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her locker – it must all be some kind of prank. She could just see the posts circulating Facebook: _Rachel Berry is such a desperate loser that she lost her second-base virginity to Quinn Fabray! And Rachel Berry enjoyed it!_

Holding back tears, she turned when she felt a large hand comfortingly grab her shoulder (or try to, at least).

"Hey, uh, it's gonna be pretty big on you but it's all I have."

Finn offered her a dumb but sweet smile and handed her a dark grey McKinley Titans t-shirt.

"Thank you, Finn."

She smiled, he smiled.

"Do you want a ride home or anything?"

She paused, and for a moment she really did consider it. She didn't drive yet; her Dads wouldn't be home for work for a few hours, and there was no way she could spend an hour in a classroom with Quinn after what just happened. Not to mention the slushie covering most of her small body and the fact that the entire school would probably be on some lesbian witch-hunt by the next bell.

But being with Finn right now – or anyone, really – was the last thing she wanted. She'd never skipped a class in her entire academic career, but all she wanted to do right now was to get home, get into her pyjamas and re-watch Funny Girl for emotional comfort. And pace her room for hours until she figured out what on earth was going on.

"No, that's okay, Finn, but thank you. My dads are already on their way to pick me up," she lied, "and I don't want you to miss your next class because of me."

"Oh, shit, I forgot I had math!"

Rachel grabbed her bag from her locker and shut it, before offering Finn a strained smile. "Well, I'll see you on Monday, Finn."

The tall boy had already set off jogging down the hall, but called a "see ya, Rach" over his shoulder.

As soon as Finn had turned the corner, she let the tears welling in her eyes finally fall and headed towards the girls' restroom to change.

* * *

Quinn laid in bed staring stoically at the ceiling, her appearance juxtaposing the chaos in her mind.

After she'd eventually calmed down in the locker room (something that had taken her all of last period, but Ms Hawthorne could suck it), she changed into a clean uniform and planned on what to tell her friends had happened (and on how to hide her bruised hand from Coach Sylvester). She could deal with Berry later.

The Cheerios would be dying to hear what she did to put Berry in her place, and she couldn't risk sounding like she'd gone soft with Santana so hot on her heels after she stabbed her in the back earlier in the week. She also couldn't risk Santana getting so much as a whiff of something being off with her, so she had to put on the performance of a lifetime.

She eventually settled on telling the girls, and subsequently spreading the rumour, that she'd shut a claustrophobic (and screaming) Rachel Berry in a Cheerios locker for an hour. When they seemed surprise that Quinn hadn't done worse, she lied and added that she'd smacked the girl around a bit too, which gave a useful excuse as to why her hand was bruised. Like a pack of hyenas, they sucked up every word.

The last thing she needed was anyone on the squad thinking she'd lost her touch.

Practice went slower than it had ever gone before (and that included the time she managed four hours whilst having morning sickness) and when it was over she declined an offer to hang out with some other Cheerios. They were all new and desperate to please her anyway.

On the drive home, she seriously considered driving off-road and into a lake.

Hours had passed since then, and she'd bypassed her mom when she got home and went straight to her room. Her mom, who was still desperately trying to reconnect with her daughter, tried knocking on her door a few times. Quinn pretended to be sleeping when she did, although she thought it unlikely that she'd ever sleep again after today.

She simply lay in her large, comfortable bed staring motionlessly from the ceiling to the pictures on her wall. Pictures of Quinn and the life she's forged for herself: one of her, Brittany and Santana smiling together in their uniforms; one of her and the squad in a pyramid together; one of her and Coach; her and her mom (she'd removed all traces of her father) and her sister at some church function. She even had one of her and the Glee Club, hidden away in the corner. It was all beautiful, popular and stoic Quinn: no Lucy, no pregnancy and no Rachel Berry (she'd scribbled the girl's face in the Glee photo out with a black marker).

She felt tears sting her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day as she stared at that wall. How many more mistakes could she afford before all of that came tumbling down? Having everyone find out that she was a lesbian secretly in love with a Jewish girl at the bottom of the social ladder raised by two gay men would surely do it. Her mom might be trying to rebuild their relationship, but Quinn was pretty sure she'd find herself homeless again if she came out. Some sins – like being pregnant – are temporary, but being gay isn't.

She slammed her fist into her mattress, winced in pain when the bruised hand met with the surface, and then turned over on her belly to let out a frustrated scream into a pillow. She was such a _fucking_ idiot!

She never should have dragged Berry in their alone. In all the years she'd known (and targeted) the girl, she'd gone out of her way to avoid being alone with the girl because she knew she couldn't trust herself. Quinn liked being 'alone' with Berry in a public setting: arguing at a locker, insulting her in a classroom, flushing her lipstick down the toilet with other Cheerios or snarking at her in Glee. It meant that she could be close to Berry, but not so close that someone stood a few meters away wouldn't see if she were to lose herself for a moment.

Rachel was always trying to find a crack in Quinn's armour, and Quinn couldn't ever let her do it.

Dragging the girl into the locker room was a stupid idea; she didn't even know why she did it. She was just so _angry_ and turned on and shocked and _angry_ and her instincts took over before she could stop herself.

After a half an hour cry, Quinn spent the evening planning damage control. She didn't think Berry would say anything, but she needed to be sure. She also wanted to forget that this whole thing ever happened, and she knew fine well that Rachel wasn't going to let that happen easily. The girl couldn't let go of a Glee solo, let alone being kissed by someone that's only ever been mean to her!

 _Fuck!_ What if Berry started chasing after her like a lost puppy like she did with Finn?!

After being seized by panic for at least a full minute, Quinn forced herself to take a deep breath and think rationally. No. Berry chased after Finn because he was handsome and the only person that was nice to her and perfect leading man material and a _boy._

There was also the issue that Rachel had actually _kissed her back._ Not that she'd been thinking when she kissed the girl in the first place, but she _never_ thought that would happen. She'd spent the whole of last year chasing after Finn! Sure, the girl might be strangely resilient and insistent upon being kind to Quinn despite how shitty she is to her, but that's just what Berry's like!

By the time midnight rolled around, Quinn had decided that she wasn't going to think about why Rachel might have kissed her back because it didn't matter because nothing like that could ever happen again. The only thought she could allow herself of Rachel was how to make sure the girl keeps her mouth shut, both to the school and to Quinn because she does _not_ ever want to be reminded of her slip in judgement again.

Controlling her thoughts was the easy part: Quinn had become a master of repression ever since she realised she liked girls. The not-so-easy part was figuring out how to get Berry to forget this like Quinn had without having to actually _talk_ about it.

Ideas from plausible to absurd to borderline criminal crossed her mind: she'd considered finding the girl on Monday and telling her that if she ever told anyone or mentioned it to her again, she'd tell the whole school that Rachel had kissed _her._ Realising that she didn't want _any_ lesbian subtext surrounding her in the rumour mill, she then toyed with the idea of kidnapping the brunette after school and threatening her (she quickly abandoned that plan when she realised she'd probably get arrested and that it was 5am and that she was probably losing her mind).

She'd even thought about trying to message Rachel on Facebook or send her a text, but then she realised that could create a paper trail that might come back to haunt her (if she and Santana could hack Berry's Facebook once in freshman year, who knows who could do it again). Plus, she was pretty sure the other girl had blocked her and all the other Cheerios' phone numbers anyway after they all prank called her with fake Broadway opportunities.

By Saturday evening, she felt so frantic that she got into her car with the intention of driving to Berry's house and telling her that if she ever so much as thought about what happened in the locker room again then she'd _personally_ assassinate Barbra Streisand. (She eventually turned off her ignition and stormed back into her house when she realised that Rachel's dads would probably call the police if they saw their baby girl's tormentor marching up their driveway).

After staying up all night on Saturday and waking up from a disturbed nap on Sunday morning though, she felt a bit calmer. The girl had promised her silence, right? She could depend on that. She could always depend on Rachel's unimpeachable goodness.

She had no doubt that Berry would want to talk about what happened, but the girl wouldn't talk about it to anyone else. Even if she wanted to, whom could she possibly tell? For once, Quinn was glad that she'd outcasted Rachel to the point that even a garbage can at McKinley wouldn't want to be caught talking to her.

Obviously she didn't want Berry to even acknowledge that it had ever happened, but if she just pretended – even to Berry – like it hadn't then what could the girl possibly do? Quinn just had to stay calm, treat Berry like she's always treated her and wait for this whole thing to blow over. It might trick Berry into thinking she's gone insane, but Quinn wasn't anything if not selfish.

Controlling Berry would be easy. Now she just had to control her thoughts, because the sound of the smaller girl crying was haunting her like an echo chamber and the feel of those lips against her own was replaying in her mind every time she tried to shut her eyes.

* * *

After changing into Finn's (slightly odorous) shirt and walking home, Rachel headed straight to her room and fell onto her bed weeping.

When her dads got home, they naturally headed into her room and insist she tell them what's wrong (apparently she was crying so loudly that a neighbour called) and she was at a loss for what to tell them. She usually told her daddies everything, but how could she possibly tell them this?

That Quinn Fabray, the girl they've threatened to go to the school about more times than she could count, had kissed her? That she'd _enjoyed_ it? That it was all almost certainly part of some elaborate prank to ruin her life at McKinley forever? That she could probably never step foot in that school again? That the two men who have spent years enduring homophobic attacks from this small, insular town would now have to endure them about their daughter too?

She just couldn't, so instead she just told them she'd seen Finn kissing another girl and that she wanted to be alone. They were hesitant at first, but eventually let her be upon the condition that she watches an episode of Grey's Anatomy with them later.

Rachel spent the entirety of Saturday pacing her bedroom. She didn't even feel like singing! She'd trawled through Facebook to see if there had been any posts about her being a lesbian, but she couldn't find anything. That wasn't particularly comforting, though, because she had less than fifty Facebook friends anyway and none of them (except Finn, Brittany, Mike and Puck) were the popular kids.

By the time Sunday had rolled around, however, she was starting to feel less frantic and more confused. If it were all just part of some cruel prank, then why did Quinn act the way she did when the ball rang? No hidden Cheerios popped out with a video camera; no vicious, cunning smirk appeared on Quinn's face. Instead, the blonde looked distraught in a way that Rachel hadn't seen since the school found out about her pregnancy.

 _Obviously_ there was no way Quinn Fabray could be a lesbian, but her reaction to this whole ordeal was certainly strange. Perhaps Quinn, after all the trauma of last year, has lost her mind and their kiss on Friday was a sign of that…?

Rachel let out a frustrated scream into her gold star pillow. If Quinn has lost her mind, then she certainly has too if she enjoyed kissing her! Every single time she even thought about their encounter (which was every waking moment!) her cheeks burned and she felt a sharp shot of euphoria from her chest to her stomach to… _down there!_

She'd gotten so desperate for answers that she'd almost considered calling Finn: not only was he her only friend, but perhaps his time dating Quinn might provide some insight into what is going on in the clearly psychotic cheerleader's mind!

Rachel abandoned that idea rather quickly when she realised that hearing that his two ex-girlfriends spent Friday afternoon embraced in a passionate lip-lock was probably the last thing Finn's fragile self-esteem could handle. She was burning with guilt over it anyway; she'd only broken up with the boy less than a month ago!

Once Sunday had rolled (or crawled) around, Rachel didn't see what choice she had but attempt to contact the blonde herself. The thought of going into school on Monday with no idea what was going to happen gave Rachel a near-panic attack every time she even thought about it.

She considered that perhaps the most sensible way to confront Quinn would be to walk to the girl's house, but the thought of even being within a 500 meter radius of that large, daunting house made her want to throw up her breakfast. Plus, if she went to the blonde's house then there would be no witnesses for the very plausible chance that Quinn might literally murder her. Or kiss her again!

Sighing in exasperation and slumping onto her bed, she realised that social media was the only option. She walked over to her desk and opened up her laptop, feeling like the very screen itself might throw a slushie at her.

No, Facebook would be too obvious: not only would everyone in the school see that Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry had become friends, but Quinn would probably use it as an opportunity to humiliate her publicly. Rachel let out a frustrated 'argh!' and shut her laptop once more with a slight slam. Sighing nervously, she opted for unblocking Quinn's number and typing out a text instead.

It kind of felt like opting to risk swimming across a crocodile-infested lake instead of walk through quicksand.

 _Hello Quinn, this is Rachel Berry. I know that you probably don't want to speak to me, but I think it's important that we discuss-_

No, too long-winded. She tried again:

 _Hi, it's Rachel Berry. I can't eat or sleep because of –_

She threw her phone down on the bed in frustration. Quinn would have a field day if she knew she'd kept her from eating or sleeping all weekend!

 _I effing hate you._

She deleted that one as soon as she'd typed it.

 _Kissing Finn never came close to kissing you._

Deleted.

 _WHY DID I ENJOY KISSING MY TORMENTOR? DOES THIS MAKE ME A MASOCHIST?_

Obviously she wasn't going to send that, but it was definitely something she needed to address. With a therapist.

 _Are you a lesbian or is this all part of some elaborate prank?_

Deleted – obviously Quinn wasn't a lesbian, and even if she was she certainly wouldn't be one for someone she calls a transvestite at least four times a day!

She was about to give up on the whole texting idea when her fingers just seemed to act on their own accord:

 _Hi, it's Rachel. I was hoping we could talk before tomorrow._

As soon as her thumb had pressed send, she squealed and threw her phone across her bed. Then buried her face beneath a pillow.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, and Quinn had finally conceded to her mom's nagging and agreed to go downstairs and eat with her.

The last year had obviously taken its toll on Judy: although she was still beautiful for her age, her eyes were more sunken than they'd ever been before and frown lines existed where they never had before. It almost gave Quinn a strange sense of satisfaction.

"How's your weekend been, Quinnie?"

Quinn found it funny how a woman that kicked her own daughter out of her house could still call her by 'Quinnie'.

"It's been fine."

There was a brief silence followed by a sigh from Judy.

"You haven't really left your room this weekend, Quinnie," she tried delicately, "is everything okay? Cheerleading is okay? No boy trouble?"

Quinn scoffed. "No, mom, no boy trouble," she said, moving her food around with her fork. "And cheer is fine. As if last year never happened." She let that quip linger; cheer wasn't the only thing acting as though last year had never happened.

If her mom had picked up on Quinn's tone, she didn't show it. "The divorce should be finalised soon."

Quinn looked up at this and fully observed her mom for the first time since they'd sat down to eat. Judy was treading into unchartered territory for a woman like her; Quinn could respect that.

"Russell isn't putting up a fight anymore?" She'd stopped calling him 'dad' the day he'd kicked her out.

"No, no. His infidelity with that tattooed freak can be proven, and if it went to court he wouldn't risk his career by perjuring himself. We'll get half of everything, including the house, since you're still a minor."

Quinn looked back to her plate and nodded. "That's good."

"Quinnie, I-

"Mom, I know," the blonde said softly, still not looking up from her plate. Their relationship was mending, but it was still strained. Judy tried apologising to her at least once a day.

The forgiveness process would probably go a lot quicker if Quinn wasn't certain that her mom would abandon her again if she knew the truth.

They finished their meal with Judy asking questions about Quinn's first week of school and Quinn giving barely-there answers. As soon as she'd cleared her plate (which took some time; she could barely even look at food after Friday) she headed straight back to her room and told her mom she had homework to do.

Checking her phone, she dropped it on the floor as soon as she'd seen the fifth message down.

"Fuck!" she shouted, the phone having hit her toe as it landed on the floor.

She'd had three messages from different Cheerios, one from some desperate football player asking her on a date, and another from 'RuPaul'.

Quinn picked up her phone and put it on her desk, beginning to pace her large bedroom whilst she considered her options. She could throw it out the window; then she'd never have to even read the message. She could delete the text without reading it, though, and that would mean she didn't have to ruin her phone.

" _Fuck,"_ she hissed again, staring at the phone on her desk as though it were a bomb with an unknown timer on it. She felt like she was going to be sick!

"Pull yourself together, Quinn," she mumbled to herself, grabbing her phone and bringing it to her bed with her, "it's just Berry."

Once she'd laid down on her bed (she needed to in case she fainted) she swiped on the message.

 _Hi, it's Rachel. I was hoping we could talk before tomorrow._

She didn't know how many times she re-read those eleven words, but she was pretty sure it was still light outside when she'd picked up her phone and now it was almost dark.

 _Seriously?_ That's all the girl had to say? The girl that could write a freaking novel just on one number from a musical only had eleven words for her?

Quinn slammed her phone into the mattress, seething. If the stupid dwarf was going to message her, it could have at least been something better than that! 'I was hoping' sounded like Berry didn't really care if they talked or not!

 _Get lost, freak, and if you ever text me again I'm going to-_

She stopped typing and took a breath. Why was she so _angry?_ She'd just spent the whole weekend plotting ways to make sure Berry never brought up what happened on Friday again, and now she was angry that the girl hadn't sent her a freaking love letter?

 _I don't know what you're talking about._

No. Berry could then reply with _exactly_ what she's talking about, and that might create a virtual paper trail.

 _Wrong number._

Quinn rolled her eyes at herself. She wasn't going to avoid a loser like Berry!

But what _was_ she going to do? Not replying seemed like the best option, but not replying looks worse than sending something mean back. Although she trusted Berry not to tell a soul about what happened, that didn't mean she wanted _any_ kind of virtual evidence of what happened. Plus, if she didn't reply, Berry would probably just text her again.

That's what she told herself anyway, when she typed out her next attempt and actually hit send this time:

 _Why the hell would I want to talk to you, Chewbacca? If you text this number again I'll feed you to Coach Sylvester's dogs – they like pork._

Coach Sylvester didn't even have dogs, but it was mean enough to sound like Quinn to any third party that might stumble upon it whilst simultaneously making it clear to Berry that she was _not_ up for discussing what happened. Especially over text message. _God,_ what was that girl thinking?!

Quinn plugged her phone in; leaving it on her bedside table before going to take a hot, angry shower and plan all the ways she was going to make sure Berry knew _nothing_ has changed between them.

If she found herself disappointed when she checked her phone and saw that Berry hadn't replied, she buried it before the feeling could really surface.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. The next chapter will be up in less than a week, promise. Please keep reviewing!


	4. Punching In A Dream

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, I've had a hectic week and I decided to make a few changes to the direction of the story (a lot has changed since I started writing this a few years ago). This chapter starts to set up some of the relationships, complexities and motivations of some of the other characters in the girls' lives. Promise there will be much more Quinn and Rachel interaction in the next chapter.

Thanks again for all the favourites/follows and reviews - I really do appreciate them so please keep them coming!

The name of this chapter is after 'Punching in a Dream' by The Naked and Famous. Enjoy!

* * *

Punching In A Dream

Rachel walked down the halls of McKinley High on Monday morning feeling like she was walking to her own execution.

She'd arrived early like she always does (she likes to do vocal runs in the choir room before class after her neighbours started complaining) but for once she didn't even want to. Every time she even went to sing this weekend she felt as though she were going to throw up. She considered feigning illness, but even if her conscience could abide that then her daddies wouldn't fall for it after she'd spent most of the weekend moping in her room. She didn't even upload a video to MySpace this weekend!

She sighed when she reached her locker, nodding to herself as though to reaffirm her resolve: the consequences of what happened on Friday were going to hit her sooner or later, and the show must go on.

Quinn's reply to her text message had upset her but not particularly surprised her. Well, the part about being fed to Coach Sylvester's dogs was rather disturbing (she'd had a nightmare about that and woke up in a cold sweat) and she didn't particularly like being compared to a p-

"Hey Rach."

She jumped, half-expecting a deranged Quinn to pop up out of thin air.

"Oh, hi Finn." She relaxed, offering the tall boy a strained smile. At least with Finn at her side she was less likely to be kidnapped by the entire Cheerios squad and burnt at the stake for being a lesbian. She shuddered.

Finn must have expected her to create a conversation, because he just stood there dumbly for a few moments until he seemed to think of something to say. "So, uh, how was your weekend?"

"It was fine," she lied, "and yours?"

The quarterback frowned, running a large hand through his hair. "You don't really seem like youse-

"Excuse me, Finn – Treasure Trail and I have something to discuss."

Before the boy could finish his sentence, he was shoved aside with grace (wow, she really was strong!) by a glaring, prepossessing Quinn Fabray.

"What the hell, Quinn?" Finn exclaimed, throwing out his arms, "you can't just do that!"

Rachel couldn't believe that this was happening. For the time in her life (apart from that time she caught laryngitis), she was genuinely speechless. She literally couldn't take her eyes off of Quinn, who was now stood in front of her but had turned to face Finn, who she'd just shoved from that same spot, with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Are you trying to tell me what I can and can't do?" She posed the question as though she were asking what time it is, but that somehow made it all the more terrifying. Rachel knew that tone well.

Finn's face contorted with rage. "You can't just – just – just strut around here telling everyone what to do anymore!"

Now probably wasn't the time, but having the quarterback and the head cheerleader fighting over who gets to talk to her was _really_ hot (even if the latter was probably only here to murder her).

"Finn, perhaps-

"Shut up, Berry," Quinn sneered, looking Finn up and down with disdain. "Maybe you're right; maybe I can't just _strut_ around telling everyone what to do anymore." The blonde smirked and let out a humourless chuckle, "but what I _can_ tell everyone is how it takes you less than a minute of making out to… _finish._ "

Finn reddened and spluttered. "You…you…you're such a-

"Finn," Rachel rushed out, finding her voice again. "Quinn is just here to discuss a history assignment she and I have been paired up for." She had no idea why she was lying for the blonde, but she needed answers after Friday and Finn's presence would only turn this hallway into a bloodbath (and judging by the dangerous glint in Quinn's eyes, it would be Finn's). "Perhaps, considering our shared history, it's best that you leave. I'll catch up with you later."

The tall boy broke the staring match he and Quinn were in to glance at Rachel.

"Really, Finn. I'll see you in Glee."

Finn frowned before mumbling what sounded like 'sure', shooting Quinn one final glare before storming off down the hall. Rachel really didn't know why his retreating form filled her with relief instead of dread, but that was another thing she could address with her therapist.

She was about to turn her gaze back to Quinn and ask the girl what she wanted, but her back meeting the row of lockers behind her due to the blonde's strong hands clutching into her sweater did the job for her. Unlike the last time that happened, she was met by lips hovering by her ear instead of her mouth.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking trying to text me, Manhands, but don't ever think about doing that again," the blonde hissed into her ear, loud enough only for her to hear. To the rest of the student populace it would look just like any other altercation at the lockers the girls often had. Rachel supposed that was the point.

"What happened the other day was-

"Was what, Quinn?" Rachel interrupted, shuffling uncomfortably against the cold metal and lock digging into her back.

"Was _nothing._ It was _nothing_ , and if you ever say anything to anyone-

"I'm not going to say anything, I just want to know why you k-

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," the blonde snarled, her nails somehow digging further into the fabric of Rachel's sweater. " _Nothing_ happened on Friday. You need to forget it, or things will get _a lot_ worse for you."

Rachel scoffed. "I fail to see how things could get much worse for me, Quinn. You've dug your own grave in that sense."

The blonde actually _growled._ "Do _not_ try and play with me here, Berry-

"I'm not trying to play anything!" Rachel stomped her foot in agitation, wriggling against the locker. " _You_ did the thing," she said carefully, worried that saying the 'k' word might give her a black eye, "and all I want to know is why! I was almost certain it was all part of some elaborate prank until you came marching up to me demanding I never tell a living soul!"

And she did! Most of why she'd been feeling sick to her stomach the entire weekend was because she was convinced the entire school was going to think that she'd kissed Quinn Fabray! Well, that and the fact that she'd enjoyed doing it (but again, that was a matter for her therapist).

Quinn paused for a moment, briefly losing the wind from her sails. Rachel watched those burning hazel eyes change for a moment, but it didn't take that dangerous sneer long to reappear.

"It doesn't matter why I did it, because it didn't fucking happen. Got it, RuPaul?"

Rachel looked up at the heavy-breathing blonde, absolutely perplexed. What on Earth was going on?!

* * *

"I was almost certain it was all part of some elaborate prank until you came marching up to me demanding I never tell a living soul!"

Quinn froze; she was pretty sure she'd just felt all of the blood drain from her body. Berry thought it was a _prank?_ She thought she was going to have to talk the girl down and convince her that it was nothing, but Berry thought it was a fucking _prank?_ She knew she should probably be celebrating because that made everything a whole lot easier, but she couldn't freaking believe it!

How could what happened on Friday possibly feel like a _prank?_ How could _Berry_ have her on the defence right now? In _public!_ She was planning on having their little discussion somewhere more private until she saw that big stammering oaf stood at the brunette's locker, and now all she could think about was the moron staring down at Berry with some kind of white knight concern.

Quinn gritted her teeth and decided that was something to focus on later (or never!). It didn't matter what Berry thought and it didn't matter if Finn was still pining over her, it just mattered that she never bring their kiss up again!

"It doesn't matter why I did it, because it didn't fucking happen. Got it, RuPaul?"

She looked down at the small brunette who, for her part, was staring back up at her as though she'd lost her mind. Quinn was close enough to the girl to breathe in that same light vanilla that had filled her nostrils in a completely different way only three days before.

"Well, it did happen, Quinn, whether you want to acknowledge it or not," she said resolutely, still managing to hold her head high despite being trapped against a locker, "and I'm not going to forget it."

Quinn watched Rachel let out an indignant huff before sidestepping out of her lazed grip and setting off down the hallway. The blonde always found it secretly amusing (and adorable) when Rachel did one of her diva storm-outs, but right now she was _anything_ but entertained.

After a brief moment of disbelief that Rachel had _walked away from her,_ Quinn was hot on her heel.

"Don't just walk away from me, Manhands!"

"Why not? As far as I'm concerned, due to your dogmatism, our conversation appears over. I also have class."

"I couldn't care less if you have class; you can't just walk away from me!"

"Until you're prepared to have a mature conversation about what happened, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Quinn grabbed Rachel's arm and spun her around to face her. This was a dance they'd performed many times, familiar to both them and the students gawping at them. Another day at McKinley, another fight between Quinn and Rachel.

"Unhand me, Quinn," Rachel said calmly, as though speaking to a child. Quinn seethed.

"We aren't done here," she growled lowly, tightening her grip on Rachel's forearm.

"Q!" Rachel jumped at the harsh, obnoxious voice travelling down the hall. If Quinn weren't so used to it, she probably would have too. Instead, she turned her head sharply and manufactured a calm, obedient smile. "Stop making out with Yentyl and get over here!" The smile instantly dropped from Quinn's face – sometimes she wondered how much that woman really knew. "I need to talk to you about our pathetic squad of cry-babies and why their mouth-breathing parents don't think a thirty hour week is _fair._ " Coach added air quotes at that last part.

Quinn forced herself to smile and nod; although she had far more leniency with Coach Sylvester than the rest of the squad, she was still treading precarious ground after last year. "Sure, Coach."

Left with little choice but to turn back to Berry and give her a parting warning glare, she was about to do just that until she realised the girl had used Coach's distraction to run off to class.

That sneaky little bitch!

Seething and definitely red-faced, Quinn stormed down the hall to meet the formidable woman in the black tracksuit, shoving some freshman out of her path on the way.

She was going to kill Berry!

* * *

Rachel could barely believe that after all these years of torment, Quinn could honestly think that Rachel was going to fall for whatever game the girl was playing. What kind of fool did that evil blonde take her for? She might be overly trusting at times and perhaps not well-versed in the social etiquette of her fellow peers, but she wasn't naïve enough to play Quinn's game.

She stormed into her class and took a middle row seat instead of her usual place at the front, earning an eyebrow raise from her teacher. She honestly would have preferred it if the blonde had just walked up to her and publicly announced her lesbianism to the whole school than whatever it was she was planning now!

Rachel tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and scribbled a brief title at the top of the page. It would be at least ten minutes before the last student stumbled into the class anyway, and she had more important things on her mind than geography right now!

 _What her evil plan is_

She paused and tapped her pen against the desk.

 _Trying to trick me into falling in love with her so that Finn gets jealous and crawls back into her grasp_

Rachel quickly scribbled that out when she realised that a) Quinn was ready to maul Finn just ten minutes ago so was hardly planning a rekindling of their romance and b) it was ridiculous.

 _Has decided to amp up her torment as previous methods were perhaps getting boring and she wants me to lose my mind!_

She kept that one, because as far as the head cheerleader was concerned, that theory wasn't entirely implausible. It _would_ explain why the blonde was so insistent she keep her mouth shut: Quinn probably wanted to drive her to insanity by denying the kiss any credibility so that she could then make a lovesick fool of her in front of the whole school!

Rachel narrowed her eyes and balled her tiny fists. The lengths that girl would go simply to make her life miserable was astonishing!

"What's that you've got there, Berrycuda?"

Rachel jumped out of her skin and immediately let out a squeal at the sound of that familiar voice right beside her.

"Nothing," she mumbled hastily, quickly scrunching up the paper in her hand and shoving it into her bag on the floor. "How can I help you, Santana?"

The fiery cheerleader smirked before taking the seat beside her. Today was going to give Rachel whiplash!

"I just wanted to confirm something."

Rachel felt her stomach drop. Whatever Quinn was planning, she was certain this was the beginning of it.

"Y-Yes?" She inquired politely, putting on her best poker face.

"You see, Tubbers told us," - when Rachel frowned in confusion at that, Santana rolled her eyes and corrected herself - "her majesty Quinn Fabray told us that she gave you a swirlie on Friday after you threw that slushie on her. Nice one, by the way – who knew Berry had balls?" She winked at a now _very_ confused Rachel. "I just wanted to verify that."

Rachel blinked. "You wanted to confirm that…I have _balls?_ " She winced at that last part.

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, moron! Everyone knows that already, Berry." Before Rachel could even respond to that, the cheerleader looked somewhere towards the back of the classroom and sighed. "Sorry, my bitch flag flies before I have a morning… _coffee_."

Although Rachel was certain 'coffee' was a euphemism for something else (and that Santana let her 'bitch flag' fly 24/7) she said nothing, continuing to stare dumbly at the girl next to her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Berry. Did Quinn swirlie you or not?"

Rachel had never almost drowned before, but she was pretty sure this is what coming up for air must feel like. The girl wasn't trying to 'verify' if she had balls (something she wouldn't put it past Quinn to make up)! _or_ that they'd kissed on Friday. After the relief settled in, she just frowned again.

"Why?"

"Because the bitch stole my spot as head cheerleader and I want to know if she's gone soft."

She considered that for a moment. It would make sense for Quinn to lie about what happened in the locker room to maintain her reputation as the school's merciless leader. But then again it would also make sense that she'd send Santana to ask her exactly this question in hope that she blurts out the truth and can thus unintentionally starts some vicious rumour about herself! She could just see it now: Quinn, smirking over her as she declares to the whole of McKinley High that she would 'never think about kissing Manhands even if it were to safe my own life' and that 'the freak must have a crush on me'!

A harsh clap in front of her face snapped Rachel out of her thoughts. "Answers, Berry. I don't want to be sat here any longer than I have to; I'm pretty sure the air around you is making my uniform turn argyle."

Putting on her game face, Rachel nodded and then did her best to look (dramatically) disturbed. "Yes, Santana. Unfortunately I cannot aid you in your endeavour in dismantling Quinn's dominance," for some reason Santana smirked at that part, "of the school, as she did indeed…swirlie me." Whatever game Quinn and Santana were playing, she wasn't going to indulge them!

What happened next flummoxed Rachel: instead of seething with barely concealed disappointment as she'd expected, Santana simply smirked and stood up from her seat.

"Thanks for that information, dwarf."

The Latina sauntered over to her usual seat at the back of the class without a second glance at Rachel, who was now left feeling even more disturbed than she was when she walked into school this morning.

* * *

"Yo, Tubbers."

Quinn gritted her teeth and continued walking, pretending she hadn't heard Santana. She'd just spent the last three hours stressing the fuck out and seething over Berry, and she did _not_ need to deal with one of Santana's power plays right now.

"Talking to you, Tubbers! Did the pregnancy take away your hearing alongside your loyalty? Or is your head just so far up your own ass that you can't hear anything but the sound of-

The blonde growled and grabbed the girl by her arm, pulling her swiftly into a nearby classroom before Santana had the time to stop her. She wasn't captain of the Cheerios for nothing.

"I am _not_ in the mood for-

"A make out session in the locker room? Damn, if only I had a slushie to throw at you – maybe then you'd be in the mood."

Quinn blanched. "What did you just say?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Fabgay."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted, a little too quickly. She knew she needed to get this situation under control, like, _right now,_ but it was hard to keep her HBIC game face on when it feels like her whole world has fallen apart in the space of one weekend!

"Oh, so you didn't spend the lunch period lip-locked with the dwarf?"

Quinn's mind went into overdrive. She could do this. She could crawl her way out of this like she's crawled her way out of so many things before. She was Quinn fucking Fabray.

But how the _fuck_ does Santana know? Surely Berry wouldn't have told anyone, least of all Santana…

"The only contact I'll ever have with that little freak's lips is my fist going into her face."

"Wow, 'cus I think you're more interested in your _fist_ going somewhere else-

"Shut the fuck up, Santana," Quinn hissed, charging into the girl's space, "or you'll regret it."

Santana simply smirked, not moving so much as an inch at Quinn's advance. There was a reason Santana was simultaneously her best friend, biggest rival and second in command: she was the only person besides Coach Sylvester who Quinn couldn't intimidate.

"We both know you can't take me, Tubbers."

"You wanna bet?"

"No, I want you to tell the truth for once in your life."

"First of all, pot-kettle. Second of all, I don't know what you're talking about, so get the _fuck_ out of my way before I have you put even further down the pyramid."

"Believe it or not, I'm not trying to fight you here," the other cheerleader said quietly, giving her a look that Quinn has only seen a handful of times.

"I don't care what you're trying to do. You're just pissed because I told Coach Sue about your-

"Oh _please_ , even if the look on your face didn't give it away then do you _seriously_ think I'd make this shit up?" Santana scoffed, "and I thought _I_ was a closet case."

Quinn didn't even think when she slapped the girl in front of her. It all just happened at once: 'closet case', the blood draining from Quinn's face (or was it her whole body? she couldn't even tell anymore), the nausea in her stomach and her hand powering into Santana's cheek.

It was like a reflex.

What took her by surprise is that she wasn't slapped back. Instead, Santana simply shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to give you a free pass on that one, because I know what you're going through, but-

"I'm not going through anything! Not everyone is like you!"

Santana just shrugged. "Nope, but you are."

Quinn gritted her teeth. It took every ounce of self-control that she'd cultivated over the years not to scream right now. Or cry. Or both.

"Whatever Berry told you –

"Berry didn't tell me anything, but her bruised lips as soon as she left the locker room did and neither of your little stories involved a punch in the mouth."

Quinn's voice (and whole fucking world) shook. The only thing that stopped her from losing her shit right there and then was the knowledge that Berry hadn't said anything. Like always, that girl was the only dependable thing in her life. "Stories?"

"Last period I asked the dwarf if you swirled her on Friday when you dragged her off to the locker room like you told us you did."

"I never said I did –

"That's my point. After staring off to space and looking like some deformed, confused puppy for a few seconds Berry was only all too quick to corroborate your version of events."

That sneaky, conniving, freakishly clever fucking _bitch_!

Quinn did her best to scoff nonchalantly.

"Even if what you're saying is true, which it isn't, who in this school would believe you? Do you think anyone would honestly believe that Quinn Fabray - a girl who was pregnant only just last year and has dated some of the hottest guys in school - would make out with Berry, a girl she's only spent the last four years torturing?"

"I'm not trying to fucking out you, Quinn! In case you've forgotten, I'm not the one that sells my friends down the river! I wasn't the one that started the rumour about your pregnancy and I sure as hell won't be the one to start some rumour about you being a repressed d-

"The _rumour_ would be that you're so bitter and jealous about losing captain that you'd make up something ridiculous and start spreading shit around about me. Maybe something to draw attention away from you and Brittany."

Defence and denial weren't working anymore; Quinn had no choice but to attack. Santana could be sneaky and vicious, but Quinn wasn't ruled by fire like Santana was. However hard the girl tried, she'd always be ruled by her feelings – by some sense of loyalty.

Quinn? She was pure ice.

"Fuck you, Quinn." The blonde ignored the tremor in her voice. She was ignoring a lot of things lately.

If the look on Santana's face bothered Quinn, now wasn't the time to think about it. She did what she had to do and she said what she had to say. She wasn't like Santana: her reputation was built on perfection and popularity and _perfectly popular_ heterosexuality and not straying too far from the path laid out for her by her parents or God or society or whoever. Nobody would look the other way like they do with Santana and Brittany if Quinn Fabray were a lesbian, let alone if it were with Rachel Berry.

Quinn shoved past a still motionless Santana. "Don't be late to practice like you were last week or you'll be even further down the pyramid. And don't _ever_ talk to me about this again."

Her voice didn't shake this time, even if the rest of her body did.

She needed to do damage control and fast, even if that meant fucking over Berry. After all this time it came naturally to her anyway.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Constructive criticism always welcome. More soon, promise!


	5. Love Will Tear Us Apart

A/N: Here's the next chapter. I'm so glad people seem to be enjoying it so far - thank you so much for all the reviews/favourites/follows. Please do keep them coming! This chapter is the last chapter that sets up the main plot/driving point of the story. I should warn that Quinn really is quite awful in this chapter, but I think that's an important/realistic part of someone being so scared and angry over their repressed sexuality and coming to terms with it. Promise it will get more upbeat.

Trigger warning: Bullying and some derogatory slurs.

This chapter is named after Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear Us Apart', but the Susanna and the Magical Orchestra cover because it's more melancholic (I have a Spotify playlist for this fic). Do give it a listen!

* * *

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Santana didn't move an inch after Quinn left apart from to type a quick text. If she walked into the hall and saw Barbie right now, she would rip that closet case's head off and use her precious fucking high pony to mop the blood up with.

She didn't really have a problem with doing that, but she knew Brittany would.

 _hey babe can u get out of class? things with fabgay went to shit_

After hitting send she took a seat in one of the front row desks and kicked a chair over on her way. She felt a small dose of calm descend when her phone buzzed only seconds later.

 _ok where r u?_

Santana smirked.

 _the classroom opposite our fav janitor's closet…but we could meet in there instead ;)_

The next reply took a couple of minutes.

 _no we need 2 talk abt Q, omw now_

"Fuck," she hissed to herself. What was it with Tubbers and ruining everything good in her life?

She spent the next few minutes awaiting Britt's arrival and thinking about all the sex she should be having right now instead of helping the Christ Crusader stop being a raging bitch to everyone and admit that she's a rug muncher.

"Hey San. What happened?"

And just like that, as though taking one of the sedatives she snaked from her dad's supply closet once, every muscle in her body turned to jelly but in a good way. Kind of like the first time she ever got high or had good sex except better. Brittany's voice did that to her.

She sighed and pecked Brittany on the lips as the tall blonde took the seat beside her, giving a moment to let the blonde's baby blue eyes calm her before she even _tried_ to explain what that bitch said to her.

"Pretty much what I said would happen: Tubbers lost her shit, went into a denial spiral and threatened to out us."

Brittany shrugged. "I mean, we're kinda like already out except not, so…"

They entwined their fingers. "Not the point. I tried to help that jumped up, holier than thou closet case and she threw it back in my fucking face! I was even _nice_ to her."

"Really?"

"Well, nice for me!"

"What did you say to her?"

Santana bristled at even the memory of her conversation with Quinn. Brittany picked up on this, so started soothingly rubbing circles along the back of her hand. She always knew what to do; she didn't even have to speak.

"I told the bitch I knew that she kissed Berry; she freaked the fuck out and denied it; I told her that her and Berry's stories didn't add up 'cus I tricked Berry into telling me a different version of what happened; Q went even more apeshit, I told her I know what she's going through and then she basically fucking threatened me then left."

Brittany's face scrunched up in confusion. "How could there be two versions of what happened? Is that like how that cheer coach from Cleveland's version of what happened was that Coach pushed her down the stairs, but Coach's version was that she slipped on a grapefruit?"

Santana smiled softly, "Kind of. Q told us that she shut Berry in a locker and roughed her up a bit, but she doesn't know that we saw Berry leave with bruised lips. _So_ I asked Berry earlier if it was true that Q gave her a swirlie in the locker room, and Berry was only too quick to say yes."

"But Q didn't tell us that she gave Rachel a swirlie."

"That's the point, Britt. Why would Berry lie about whatever shitty thing Q did to her unless they're both talking shit and something happened that they want to keep a secret instead."

The blonde took a moment, looking just over Santana's head as though doing some kind of math equation, before jumping out of her seat and squealing. "Oh my god, San, you should totally be a detective!"

Santana shrugged and smirked, "I know. But you're smarter."

Brittany's eyes lit up in a way that made Santana's heart turn to mush. "So is Quinn still saying she doesn't like Rachel?"

Santana scoffed. "The bitch said, and I quote," she sat up straight, placing her hands on her hips and concentrating her face into a furious snarl, " _The only contact I'll ever have with that little freak's lips is my fist going into her face."_

The blonde frowned. "You don't think Q would hit Rachel, do you? She's so tiny she'd probably break apart into tiny little pieces."

"Who knows, Britt – the bitch was ready to take _me_ on when I confronted her," she answered, shrugging. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than whatever we got to make that chica admit she's gay for Berry."

"What do you think we should do now? Maybe we should talk to Rachel."

It was only because she loved Brittany that she didn't tell her to fuck off right then and there. "No way am I talking to the dwarf anymore than I already have today. Plus, if anyone's talking to either of them it should be you," she added softly, giving Brittany's hand a light squeeze, "you're better at this kind of shit than I am."

"No, because Q wouldn't take me seriously," the blonde huffed sadly, rolling her eyes.

"Q won't take _anyone_ seriously on this one, but at least she wouldn't think you're out to ruin her life or whatever." Plus, the bitch wouldn't _dare_ talking to Brittany like she'd just spoken to her. Not if she wanted to keep her head on her stretch mark-infested body.

"But you and her have more in common."

She lowered her head at that, feeling the elevator in her chest drop all the way down to her stomach. She was shitty to Brittany, Q was shitty to Berry. How were her and Tubbers even that different, when it came down to it?

"I'm not saying you treated me like Q treats Rachel, Sannie," the blonde rushed, cupping Santana's cheek. The warmth of the girl's hand only seemed to make her feel guiltier. "I know you'd never hurt me on purpose and besides, Rachel is so tiny whereas I'd totally kick your butt."

She allowed herself a small laugh at that. "I guess." Wanting to change the subject back to the _real_ bitch in this conversation, she shook her head and continued, "remind me again why this is even our problem? The UN Peace Convoy couldn't sort out the shit going on between Q and Berry."

"Because Q is our friend and she's going through a hard time and we could help her."

"I don't really see why we should be doing anything for that uppity bitch right now-

"Think about Rachel then."

Um, what?

"Think about the dwarf? Britt, I still need to eat."

"Don't be mean, San. She's going through what I was when you wouldn't tell me how you felt except it's totally worse because Quinn is so mean to her and she has no friends."

That would be true, but that was another thing that wasn't her problem.

"I am _not_ being Berry's friend."

Britt rolled her eyes. "Sure, but we still need to help them."

"Britt, I'm not even sure if Berry likes Quinn that way. My gaydar is some FBI-level shit and I just don't see it. Christ, the dwarf was basically dry-humping Frankenteen all of last year and nearly had a meltdown when some closet-gay Vocal Adrenaline dweeb threw an egg at her."

Then again, the dwarf obviously hasn't come into herself sexually yet if she's only ever lusted after Frankenteen, Puckerman and some theatre cun-

"She does like Q in that way, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"I'm not sure, Britt." And she wasn't. Ever since Britt had her 'epiphany' last year that Q was gay for Berry, she'd been watching the annoying little dwarf like a hawk, and all she ever saw was some puppy-eyed freak chasing after whatever leading man she could plausibly catch. Hell, she'd probably even go for Hummel if he could pass for something other than a flaming homo. "What kind of masochist would have feelings for someone that treats them the way Quinn treats Berry? Even she has more pride than that."

"You can't help who you love," the blonde sang, giving Santana a soft, sweet peck on the lips. The girl was such a _tease!_ "Plus Rachel only liked Finn 'cus he's tall and is leading man martial and she wants someone who isn't gay or in a wheelchair to sing the boy parts. And that St Jude guy was totally just because she was lonely and wanted to feel special and 'cus no one here is nice to her or, like, notices her."

Apart from mistaking 'material' for 'martial' and 'Jude' for 'James', Britt had a point. Who gives a shit what his name was anyway?

"Plus, Rachel is always looking at Quinn with those puppy eyes that are kinda cute. Like, Quinn is always so mean to her but Rachel still follows her around like a puppy trying to be nice to her. She even cared when Q stopped showing up to Glee, which is weird 'cus all Q ever does when she's there is roll her eyes at Rachel and draw mean pictures of her."

She thought about it for a moment. Berry _was_ unusually nice to Q for a girl that's probably never even called her by her first name… And she _does_ always go on about how pretty the girl is like a cat in heat or something.

"Okay, let's say Berry likes Tubbers too but doesn't know it. Still doesn't change the fact that Q isn't getting out of that closet anytime soon."

Brittany smiled a smile that Santana knew to be the kind of smile designed to melt her heart because she was about to ask her something that she didn't want to do.

"Which is why we have to regroup and think of another way to help her, like we do in Glee Club when one of Mr Schue's ideas totally suck."

Santana groaned. "I'm only agreeing to help because you're so much smarter than me and I love you."

On days like this, she sometimes wished that Britt wasn't the most intuitive person she'd ever met. If they'd have just skipped Glee that day and made out in the janitor's closet like they were going to anyway…

 _Nine months earlier_

" _Q likes Rachel."_

 _Brittany's whisper was just loud enough for Santana to hear. "What?"_

" _Q. Likes. Rachel," the blonde repeated quietly, as though speaking to a toddler._

 _Fuck it, she thought. Mr Schue was going on about some band from the 1970s she didn't give a shit about anyway; she could humour this. "Britt, Q hates Berry more than Coach Schue hates losing," she scoffed._

" _Look at what she's drawing," the blonde whispered back, pointing to the blonde on the row of risers in front of them._

" _That's…" Santana looked at the pregnant blonde's open notepad, on which she was doodling away at a portrait of Berry. A portrait surrounded by love hearts… "…weird."_

 _Brittany leaned in closer, lowering her voice even more as they both noticed Kurt leaning to the left to try and catch some of their conversation. "Plus, Q's the one who's been drawing all those weird pictures of Rachel on the bathroom walls."_

 _Santana couldn't contain her guffaw at that._

" _Sorry, was just thinking about that time Kurt pretended to be straight," she offered, effectively earning a disapproving frown from Mr Schue and causing the nosey boy sat two seats away from them to bristle and stop eavesdropping._

" _Santana…" the useless teacher began. She waited for more, but apparently that was the end of his reproach as he carried on talking about whatever the fuck he'd been talking about before._

" _Fuck, this is gold. How d'you know it's her?" she whispered to Britt, still barely containing her laughter._

" _I was waiting for you in a cubicle once when I heard someone drop to their knees. I peaked through the gap in the door to see if they were okay but it was actually just Q doing another drawing," the girl explained, as though talking about the weather._

" _Holy shit," she snickered back, "I thought those were Jewfro!"_

" _Nope, all Q."_

" _Sure, and that is hella freaky, but Q still torments Berry more than everyone else combined. And she's pregnant. And dating the tree."_

 _Britt rolled her eyes, again as if explaining algebra to a toddler. "She goes after Rachel like when a boy pulls a girl's hair in the playground, except also not 'cus instead she does it because she's all angry and repressed and takes it out on Rachel."_

 _Santana considered that for a moment. Being secretly gay_ would _explain why Q always had such a stick up her ass and a chip on her shoulder, and her parents_ were _always preaching about how the Berrys are an affront to God or whatever._

 _Plus, the girl was always ranting a couple months ago about how the whole school might see Finn as her 'big gay beard'…_

" _I see your point, Britt, I really do, but that doesn't change the fact she's got a bun in the oven."_

 _Brittany frowned. "Where?"_

" _No, Britt, I mean she's pregnant. That's not very…lesbian of her."_

" _But we both sleep with loads of guys. We could get pregnant if we had parent's like Q's who think contradiction is a sin."_

" _Contraception," she corrected lightly, only because that one's important._

 _"Yeah, conception. Plus, Q totally only had sex with a boy 'cus she was having a big gay panic. You know she usually doesn't even let Finn use tongue when they kiss."_

 _Santana shrugged, "That's 'cus the dude's disgusting and looks like a tree monster."_

" _Exactly," Brittany smiled, as though her point was now proven. "Q only likes him because he's popular."_

 _Santana looked from Britt back to Quinn's drawing, now covered in even more hearts._

" _Holy fucking shit, Q's gay!"_

" _Santana, Brittany! Please listen to what I'm saying, it's important for Regionals!" Mr Schue pleaded, his voice drowning in a lack of authority._

" _Sue Sylvester plants," she heard Berry grumble from her front row seat. Instead of responding with a quick retort, she looked back at Quinn._

 _The blonde's eyes had also travelled to Berry, but unlike Santana's they lingered. When she eventually looked back to her drawing, Santana noticed the girl press her thighs further together._

* * *

It was 12pm and aside from her early morning locker encounter with Quinn and that strange conversation with Santana during first period, Rachel's day was thus far uneventful. She'd even sat next to Tina in math and actually _talked in class_ when the teacher wasn't looking.

Still, it felt like doom was hanging in the air.

Her sixth sense must have gone into overdrive today, because only seconds after a new wave of dread hit her she found herself shoved harshly into a row of lockers.

"What the hell, Manhands?"

Great. She'd spent the last four hours trying to avoid the blonde like the plague until she could sort her own head out, but she was obviously too in her own head to spot the head cheerleader and her little gaggle of loyal followers heading straight her way!

Before Rachel could even ask what it was she'd done wrong (aside from breathing, which seemed to agitate Quinn enough) the blonde continued. "Did you just try and touch my ass you little freak?"

Her mouth gaped open in disbelief. She hadn't even _seen_ the head cheerleader, let alone tried to touch her…behind!

"What? Of course not! I didn't even notice you were th-

"Are you calling me a liar?" The blonde was sneering at her in harshness that even Rachel had only seen a number of times, raising her voice with every word. The girl obviously wanted to make a scene, but that was often the case with Quinn and humiliating her.

It just didn't make sense when only a few hours ago she was demanding she never tell a living soul they've so much as brushed hands!

"W-Well, yes! I am! I had both of my hands on my books a-and-

"Really, because I'm pretty sure we all saw something different, didn't we girls?" Quinn smirked and looked back to the group of five or six Cheerios behind her, now forming a circle around Rachel against the lockers.

Rachel watched on in horror as the Cheerios, all undoubtedly desperate to impress their reinstated leader, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, the freak was staring at you the whole time we were walking," offered one freshman-looking brunette.

"It was disgusting, it probably thought it could get away with it because no one here ever notices its presence," said another one that Rachel only recognised from pep-rally performances.

Quinn, for her part, was stood only a foot away from Rachel, sneering down at her as though looking at something stuck beneath her shoe. Something about the way the blonde was looking at her sent a harsh burning sensation through her chest that seemed to make its way up to her eyes. She blinked away the forming tears.

They were tears of indignation anyway, and absolutely _not_ ones of sadness!

"What's the matter, Manhands? Now that you've lost Finn you thought you'd go onto girls? Sorry to tell you, Berry, but you'd probably have better luck at a school for the blind."

Chatters of laughter travelled down the hall. Rachel forced herself to keep her head held high. This must be what Quinn had been planning all along. She'd been preparing (dreading) for it all day and all weekend, and now there was nothing left to do but hold her head high and not give the blonde any satisfaction.

"Perhaps _you_ would benefit more from a school for the blind, Quinn, as anyone with working eyes would see that I did not try and…touch you." Her hands were shaking, but she didn't let her voice do the same. She allowed herself a nanosecond to appreciate the shocked (and impressed!) gasps from around the hall at her witty retort.

The blonde's eyes narrowed dangerously at that and she took a sharp intake of breath that probably only Rachel could hear. It always amazed Rachel how such scolding hazel eyes could hold such ice beneath them.

Quinn took a dangerous step forwards but Rachel didn't meet that with her usual step backwards. There was only an inch or two between the back of her argyle sweater and the row of lockers, but whatever ground she had left she wasn't going to give to Quinn.

Later was the time for tears; now was the time to put on the performance of her life and pretend that she wasn't ready to crawl under a rock and never come out.

It was a performance she was well accustomed to, thanks to Quinn and all her popular friends.

"And if you want to keep _your_ working eyes, Treasure Trail," the head cheerleader hissed, inflecting her tone on 'working eyes' to mock Rachel, "then I suggest you listen here."

Rachel forced herself to look stridently ahead and not at the sheer hatred in those hazel eyes that would only make her break her resolve and cry or the smooth pale skin of her neck and tightness of her Cheerios top that would make her break a different kind of resolve entirely…

Her efforts were promptly ruined by Quinn's long, thin fingers grasping her chin and forcing her to meet that cold hazel gaze. Juxtaposed by the intention itself, Rachel was surprised to find that the grip was relatively light. It reminded her faintly of how Quinn touched her there last Friday for entirely different reasons…

"We all know that you're desperate for any kind of attention or spotlight you can get, but trying to cop a feel from innocent passer-by's in the hall is pathetic, even for you," she blonde began, offering a sickeningly-sweet, faux sympathetic smile. Giggles travelled down the hall again. "We get that you're lonely and don't know how to interact with people," she continued, raising her voice for the crowd, "but trying to touch people like your male counterpart Jewfro does is _not_ the way it works, sweetie."

Another sickeningly sweet smile, another round of laughter from the crowd.

"So I'm going to make it really clear for you, since your mom gave you up before she taught you how to socialise," she carried on, constantly looking to the peers behind her watching the blonde tear apart her prey like a pack of hyenas.

Rachel felt her eyes well with tears, this time uncontrollable. Quinn had never brought up her mom giving her up, especially not since Beth.

"Everyone here would prefer it if you didn't look at them, didn't talk to them and _definitely_ didn't touch them," the blonde sneered, talking more to the students forming a semi-circle behind her than to Rachel herself. She paused, finally looking back to Rachel, "Apart from maybe Mr Ryerson, if he's into trannies as well as guys."

Rachel couldn't respond. She couldn't even move, let alone speak. The only thing she was aware of was the hot tears now rolling freely down both cheeks and the nausea bubbling in her stomach. Even Quinn had never been this cruel before.

"So…" Just as Rachel braced herself for further humiliation, the blonde paused. Something between looking back to Rachel and finishing her sentence had made the girl stop.

"So s-stay the fuck away from me, got it?"

Rachel found the energy within her only to nod. She couldn't speak right now, even if she wanted to.

Just as she thought her humiliation was finally over, with a nod of Quinn's head, some nameless freshman Cheerio dumped a slushie over her head. It wasn't even cherry.

"See you later, freak."

If it were ironic that Quinn told her she'd see her later only moments after telling her to stay away, Rachel couldn't let herself think about it.

* * *

Morning sickness had nothing on what Quinn was feeling right now.

"Berry looked like she was going to have a breakdown," she faintly heard some Cheerio trailing behind her say to another.

"Did we actually see her try and touch Quinn's butt?" one whispered, thinking Quinn wouldn't hear.

"No," Stacey replied, letting out a giggle, "but it was funny as fuck."

"Since when is anything we say about Berry true, anyway?" another chipped in with a dumb fucking laugh.

Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. "Get out," she said calmly. As if on autopilot, she'd walked them to the bathroom and was now stood facing herself in the mirror.

"What?" Stacey enquired nervously, seeming to think that being on the squad for the second year in a row made her of authority to ask on behalf of the rest of the losers trailing behind her.

"Did I stutter?"

"N-No, I j-just –

"Then get out," Quinn interrupted, her voice still eerily calm. They didn't need to know that her voice was the only calm thing about her right now. "Being that close to Berry has made me feel sick and I want to be alone."

They all just stared at her dumbly.

"LEAVE!"

The door had barely even shut behind the retreating Cheerios when Quinn ran to the nearest stall to be sick. Being that close to Rachel wasn't what was making her feel sick; seeing Rachel's broken, puppy-like face staring up at her was.

How could she be so heartless? She brought up her fucking mom! Making adoption jokes last year about the girl's dads were one thing, but even they lost all their humorous effect after she'd seen how devastated the girl was after her brief reconnection with Shelby didn't work out.

After throwing up for at least five minutes, Quinn slumped pathetically against the stall door. Every time she thought she was done, an image of Rachel, teary-eyed in a way she'd never seen (or at least caused) before would resurface and she'd be sick all over again.

But she did what she had to do. She couldn't have anyone think it even _plausible_ that she could feel anything other than loathing for the small brunette, not if people were starting to notice the truth. And if people _were_ starting to notice something, she needed the focus to be on Rachel and not her.

She knew God would judge her as unashamedly selfish, but it was also necessary self-preservation.

Not only that, but Rachel needed to hate her. She couldn't risk the girl bringing up their kiss again, whether in public _or_ private. She made a mistake on Friday that she couldn't afford to make again. Rachel needed to be at arm's length from her, always.

Her phone buzzed, and her stomach churned again when she realised the notification sparked a strange hope that the alight screen would display 'Berry' (she'd changed it from 'RuPaul' yesterday).

Another wave of nausea when she saw who'd actually messaged her.

 _what you just did to berry is fucked up and that's coming from me. sort your fucking head out Q and pull it out from your ass_

Santana's text ignited a brief, fiery rage that put a brief stop to the nausea. She was considering her response when her phone buzzed again, this time from Mercedes.

 _girl, whats going on with u? heard what happened w you and rachel, we both know she didnt try and touch ur butt. i know u dnt like her and believe me girl i get it but we're all a family now and what u said about her mom was rly mean_

Quinn winced at the text from Mercedes, feeling yet another wave of shame wash over her. And nausea.

But she couldn't let that part of her win. That part of her was the same part that kissed Rachel on Friday.

 _Since when did you care about how I treated Berry?_

She sent back, not feeling emotionally ready to deal with Santana when she was still a vomit risk.

Mercedes' response was almost instantaneous.

 _idk since last year u havnt been giving any of the rest of us any crap but u still pick on rachel_

Quinn's shame turned to irritation; it had a way of doing that.

 _You don't even like Rachel._

She ignored the fact that she'd referred to her by her first name. Her phone buzzed again. Mercedes.

 _shes annoying but we're all family now, girl it just seemed a bit intense 2day from what i heard_

Quinn's fingers typed viciously at the keypad.

 _Berry isn't my family. How I treat her is none of your business. Stay out of it Mercedes_

As soon as she hit send she regretted it. She liked Mercedes; the girl was one of the only people she felt like she could be (relatively) honest with and the girl gave her a room in her home when Quinn had never even so much as said one pleasant thing to her before.

But again, now wasn't the time to let humanised Quinn win. That Quinn was never any good at damage control.

Her phone buzzed again, this time just from various Cheerios making jokes at Berry's expense. Quinn threw her phone against the stall wall and threw up again.

After another three minutes (and after everything she'd eaten since she was born was emptied into the toilet bowl) she slumped back against the red stall door again. Berry's face was burning in her mind like it was fucking tattooed there! Shaking her head, Quinn tried to rationalise it: she was mean to the girl every day, how was this even any different?! Because they kissed?

 _Partly, but mostly because you threw her under the bus to save yourself and brought up her mom giving her up._

Quinn ignored the part of her that was still Lucy and kicked the floor. It wasn't even like she'd thrown her under the bus that badly – most people would know she was just making up Berry grabbing her butt to embarrass the girl and even then she might just get called a lesbo for a week before everyone moves on to something else!

 _That soooooo isn't the point._

"Shut up," she hissed at her own conscience.

 _You gave your daughter to her mom and still made fun of her over being given up as a baby. That could be Beth one day._

Quinn winced at the thought and dug her nails into her thighs. It wasn't like she hasn't made fun of Berry for that before – her and the Cheerios always made jokes about her dads giving her up or something!

 _That's different and you know it._

"Shut up shut up shut up!" she cried to her own mind, burying her head in her hands. Maybe if she put enough pressure on her closed eyes then she'd stop seeing Rachel's wide brown orbs welling with tears behind her own eyelids.

Everyone says that you always hurt the one you love, but Quinn was taking this to a whole other level. She didn't even know herself how she let it go so far: she was just so _scared_ and angry at herself and that made her angry at the world and Rachel. It always made her angry at Rachel.

Without another thought, she grasped for her phone and typed out a text, clicking on 'Berry'.

 _I'm so sorry._

Before pressing send, she hid her caller ID. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was the only thing she could afford to give right now.

* * *

She put her phone back down and wiped tears from her cheeks that she didn't even realise had been falling since the second she'd entered the bathroom.

Rachel sat slumped against a bathroom stall door, tears still freely falling down her face. She'd cleaned the slushie from herself at least half an hour ago and changed into a spare outfit, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the bathroom and face anyone.

She was missing lunch, but there was no way she'd be able to keep her food down anyway.

Even though she'd been preparing herself for something like this all weekend, it hit her harder than anything Quinn had ever said or done to her before. Quinn accusing her of trying to grab her butt wasn't particularly surprising; it was obviously part of some ploy to spread a lesbian rumour about her around the school and would explain why the blonde lowered herself enough to kiss her on Friday.

It made her rather uncomfortable that Quinn was holding the knowledge that Rachel had quite obviously enjoyed said kiss, but that wasn't her main concern right now.

What was making her heart burn and stomach churn was the fact that Quinn – after _everything_ that happened last year – would bring up her mother. Her mother, who after their failed reconnection was now burning a hole in Rachel's self-esteem faster than her therapist could fix.

Her mother, who adopted Quinn's baby because Rachel wasn't good enough.

Closing her eyes tightly, she allowed herself to bathe in the agony. She would never give them the satisfaction out there, but she could in here.

She jumped some five minutes later when her phone buzzed. Sniffling, she picked it up and wiped away her tears so that she could read the message.

 _did u try and grab quinns butt?_

If she were a lesser person she'd have thrown her phone against the wall and broken it into a hundred pieces. News travels fast at McKinley, but _of course_ Finn would only ask about that part of the story. No 'are you okay, Rachel?'

 _No, Finn._

She didn't even realise she'd been gritting her teeth until she hit send. A few moments later, her phone buzzed again.

 _oh ok. see u in glee_

If Rachel hadn't spend the best part of her summer dating the boy, she wouldn't believe that someone could be so completely clueless and insensitive.

She was only two minutes back into her crying when her phone buzzed again. Inhaling a sharp intake of breath, Rachel prayed to Barbra that Finn didn't have another gormless thing to say.

Instead, her eyes widened in pleasant surprise when she saw who the message was from.

 _hey girl, hope ur ok. heard abt quinn, what she said isnt ok. she needs 2 stop being so mean to u this yr and think of the team_

Mercedes wouldn't realise this, but those twenty-nine words (she knew because she read the text at least thirty times) meant more to her than the girl could possibly imagine. No one ever asks her if she's okay.

Maybe they weren't so mad about the crack house incident after all.

Just as she was typing her reply to Mercedes (she was taking her time – she didn't want to mess this up) her phone buzzed again, this time from an unknown number.

 _I'm so sorry._

She frowned, her stomach dropping again. Could it be…?

No. There was no way it could be Quinn. Someone can't say such despicable, careless things to someone and look at them with such disdain only to send them an apology text less than an hour later.

Then again, Rachel also didn't think someone could bully you for four years only to passionately kiss you in a locker room until last Friday. _But that was different!_ she scolded herself, trying not to let the optimist in her preside over common sense. _The kiss on Friday was obviously some kind of ploy and Quinn Fabray does not apologise!_

Rachel read the text one more time before putting her phone back on the floor and trying to pull herself together enough to appear at her next class. It was probably just a wrong number text anyway.

* * *

Brittany didn't know what was going on in Glee that afternoon.

Quinn was sat by herself which was kind of normal since she and Santana won't speak at the moment, but instead of looking all cold and aloof like she usually does she just looked kind of distraught. She also looked like she was listening even less than usual.

Finn was sat next to Rachel like he always does even since they broke up but he wasn't trying to talk to her like normal. Instead he just kept looking at her with that weird frowny constipated face.

Mercedes was ranting to Kurt about something which also isn't that weird, but she kept hearing the girl whisper 'Quinn' and 'stuck up bitch' which was kinda weird since the two girls became friends last year.

Kurt was just raising his eyebrow in that annoying judgemental way he normally does but he was looking between Quinn and Rachel a lot more than normal. Usually he looks at Finn.

The weirdest thing was Rachel. The little brunette wasn't listening to Mr Schue or taking notes like she usually does. She just sat there staring at the whiteboard but not really _looking_ at the whiteboard. It looked sorta like she was concentrating on something really hard that wasn't Glee.

It looked like Rachel and Quinn were both trying really hard not to look at each other, but Brittany got the feeling it was for two totally different reasons. It made her really sad for both of them but in different ways.

"So," said Mr Schue, finishing some speech nobody was listening to anyway, "before we do our duet assignment next week, I thought we'd do something a little more fun before we really need to focus on Sectionals. You guys are always telling me how you want to do more modern music, so I thought this week's assignment could be pick a song to perform that was released in the last year!"

A few people got excited about that but not Rachel. Quinn didn't either but she never gets excited anyway.

The only thing that felt right about this Glee meeting was that nobody was listening to Mr Schuester and her and Santana were linking pinkies.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. More soon, promise! And lots more direct Quinn/Rachel interaction in the next chapter (I mean it this time).


	6. Mean

A/N: First of all, thank you so much again for all the reviews/favourites/follows. I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying delving back into writing it! Sorry for the slight delay; life has been a bit hectic but I'll always update as frequently as I can.

Shoutout to a reviewer on the last chapter who called it _exactly_ right: this chapter is named after and based on 'Mean' by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Mean

The rest of the week went exactly like Monday had for Rachel, except for the fact that Quinn kept the insults more generic and less maliciously soul-crushing. She'd been shoved into lockers and slushied more times than she could count, and she was pretty sure she was starting to believe herself that her name was 'Manhands' and not Rachel.

Still, the blonde wasn't as personal as she usually was when it came to tormenting her: with Quinn, it was more often about the fun of the hunt than the kill itself, but this week she barely spared Rachel a glance as she hurled yet another insult (or slushie). Rachel was honestly flummoxed as to why that was, but she'd given up long ago on figuring out Quinn's eternally dubious intentions. All she was focusing on right now was getting through the week. She was still licking her wounds from her encounter with the head cheerleader on Monday, and it was getting harder and harder to separate her fearsome tormentor with the girl she'd exchanged a passionate lip-lock (and much more!) with the week before.

Rachel's head was all over the place, and that was _before_ everything else in her usually predictable world started to turn upside down as well! Ever since Monday, Santana has barely thrown an insult at her and Brittany has even been saying hello when they cross paths in the hall! Her best guess as to why would be that Santana has bigger fish to fry (like Quinn) or that Brittany, out of some kind of sympathy after Monday, was telling her friend to back off. But that _still_ wouldn't make all that much sense, because Santana _always_ had a long list of enemies and still managed to pick on Rachel regardless, and Brittany's best efforts had never reined in her two best friends before!

And then there was Finn! The quarterback was alternating between barely giving her a moment's peace and frowning at her from afar and sulking – he'd even sang Won't Go Home Without You by Maroon 5 for their Glee assignment this week and spent the whole performance looking directly at her, only to storm out (kicking a chair in his wake) when Santana told him that that song was from 2007 and called him a 'dumbass'. (Rachel didn't let it show, but she was secretly glad that Santana had said that because she did _not_ feel emotionally equipped to deal with the ramifications of that song right now).

Her friendship with Finn was important to her (and still arguably the only genuine friendship she's made thus far), but the boy couldn't seem to decide whether he's heartbroken, angry or happy to be friends! And it made everything even harder because she could _really_ do with a friend right now!

The only silver lining since Monday had been that since Mercedes sent her that text, she'd been making tentative but promising progress with her fellow Glee-clubbers still suffering from loserdom. Although she was still taking her lunch and eating it alone in the choir room, she was making small talk with them in the halls and even sitting at their table in shared classes! Perhaps the whole Sunshine debacle hadn't set her too far back, after all.

She also couldn't help but notice that Quinn seemed to be displeased with her burgeoning friendship with the other Glee clubbers, so Rachel may or may not have been intentionally making a point to chat to them in the halls when the blonde was within eyeshot.

Regardless, she'd never been so glad to see a Friday in her entire life.

"Well hi, my little Jewish princess." Rachel jumped and squealed at her locker for not the first time this week.

"Noah! You almost gave me a heart attack," she gasped, turning to face the smirking boy stood beside her and grasping at the fabric of her jumper above her chest.

"Sorry," he put his hands up and smiled innocently; "I forgot that Quinn is on the warpath right now." He paused and allowed his facetious smirk to reappear, "Just so you know, I'd be totally cool with you touching my butt in the hall."

Rachel rolled her eyes and ignored the way the boy was obviously trying to flex his abs. This time last week that suggestion would have outraged her, but she was quite accustomed to being accosted by pervy lowerclassmen after Monday – Noah was honestly a step up (and predictable). "That will never happen," she deadpanned. "Why are you here?"

The boy leaned against a locker beside her casually, "I got your message. Puckerman at your service."

What message…? _Oh!_ She'd been so caught up in her own head that she'd completely forgotten! The boy was so elusive at school that she had no idea how to find him unless it was in Glee itself, but that would be too late.

"I need to ask you a favour."

His smirk only widened. "A favour? Babe, I'll give you anything you ne-

"Noah, this is serious!" She hissed, involuntarily stomping her foot in the process. He might have been the best (male) kiss she'd ever had, but why could this boy not think of anything but sex?! "I would like it if you could accompany me in my Glee number this afternoon on your guitar."

She didn't think it was possible for Noah to smirk even more, but he managed. "Well, this afternoon is a bit short notice…I think I'll need a favour in return," he drawled, still leaning casually against the cool metal and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Ugh!

"It's a very simple number," she retorted quickly. She'd been hoping, albeit guiltily, that the prospect of making Finn jealous by performing with her would be enough to win Noah over (but then again, their friendship was almost as precarious as Quinn and Santana's, and perhaps now the boys were on the mend).

"Still, I think if you want my help you could do something for me in return…"

That's it – she wasn't going to be solicited for sex by some horny teenage boy just so she could have a guitarist in her Glee number! She'd had enough of being treated like a doormat this week! "Noah, I will not perform any sexual favours for you. If needs be, I'll sing the song unaccompa-

"Woah woah, chill! I don't want any sexy stuff or anything like that. Not this time," he rushed, holding his hands in the air.

Rachel frowned in suspicion, "Then what do you want?"

Noah smiled in a way that didn't look entirely sordid this time; "I'm having a homecoming party at mine tonight. You should come."

She blinked. "But homecoming isn't until next week."

The muscly, black vest top-clad boy rolled his eyes. "The _lame_ one is next week, the one worth actually going to is at my house tonight."

Well, just add that to the long list of things happening this week that made no sense whatsoever!

"Why do you want me there?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. She'd never been asked to a popular kid party before (when she and Finn dated over summer, he'd said it would be a 'kinda bad idea'), and with everything that was going on right now this seemed more than suspicious.

"Because Finn's my boy and he asked me to ask you," he shrugged. "Plus, you're hot as hell and someone needs to show you a good time."

Rachel groaned. "Noah, Finn and I have broken up and that isn't going to change."

The smirk was back. "Yeah, I heard about your journey to the land of taco eating instead of sausage, but-

" _Noah!"_ She exclaimed, stomping her foot yet again. "That's absolutely-

"Okay, okay, chill!" This conversation, as well as most conversations between her and Noah, seemed to consist entirely of the boy either smirking or holding his hands up defensively. "Look, just come to my party tonight and I'll play guitar for you. I seriously owe Finn after last year and besides, you don't even have to talk to him! I've done my part by just getting you to show up."

Rachel considered that for a moment. Her performance _would_ be considerably weakened without a guitar, and perhaps this party would be a good opportunity to get her friendship with Finn back on track…

"Will Quinn be there?"

Noah paused for a moment. "No, apparently she has some Church thing with her family, so you're safe. Or she's safe," he winked.

Rachel thought about it for another minute. Maybe this would be good for her: she could rebuild her friendship with Finn, her Glee number would be a success, showing up to a real party could only help her 'Fresh Start' plan and, importantly, Quinn wouldn't be there to ruin it!

"Okay, I'll come to the party."

"Hell yeah!"

"What time should I arrive? Six thirty?"

Noah laughed. "Oh, wait, you're serious." Serious about what? "Uh, get to mine for nine."

She felt her eyes widen, " _Nine?!_ "

"Babe, this isn't a kid's birthday party – this is high school."

Rachel frowned; she'd have to think of a way to ask her Dads, but that was a problem for later. "Okay, I'll be there."

"Cool. What's the song for Glee, anyway?"

* * *

She might have been at the end of her second week being back at the top of the pyramid and social ladder in general, but Quinn felt like shit. Every time she managed to get the image of Rachel's face after she'd said _that_ thing on Monday out of her head, she'd blink and it would reappear.

The same thing happened whenever she thought of their _encounter_ last week, except that was harder to hide because she could _feel_ it every time it crossed her mind, which was all the freaking time!

Plus, she didn't know whether to be pissed off or relieved that Berry hadn't _once_ harassed her about what their kiss last week 'means'. She's pretty sure the frustrating dwarf practically hounded Finn every time he so much as looked at her last year!

It didn't exactly help that her eager-to-please Cheerios (with the exception of Santana and Brittany) wouldn't shut up about how she'd 'put Berry in her place' and the rest of the Glee Club were looking at her like she's Boo Radley's ghost!

What, like they weren't used to seeing Quinn act like a bitch? Since when did they care about Berry anyway? And why the hell does no one ever look at Santana like that!

All of that, alongside the stress of being Head Cheerio, back on honour roll _and_ trying to forge a relationship with her mom again was making her feel like she was going to fucking explode.

And every time she saw Berry, it would only serve as a reminder of how easy it would be for her to lose all of that again if she let herself lose control like she had on Friday! Her life was finally getting back on track – as if last year had never happened – and she needed more than anything to not fuck it up again.

She was just about to head to third period, marching down the hall and revelling in how it was parting like the Red Sea again, when she saw something that made the bile dwelling in her stomach rise straight to her throat.

What the hell was Berry doing talking to Puck at her locker?

She didn't even think before she made a beeline towards the unsuspecting (and way too friendly!) pair.

"Puck," she breathed testily, stopping in front of the two with her hands on her hips, "RuPaul. I know you're pretty desperate these days, but are you seriously turning to men?" She asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, sneering at the tall boy that completely fucked up her life last year and was _not_ going to fuck up Rachel's (she was doing a pretty good job of that herself, anyway).

If she saw the look of hurt flash across his face, she didn't let herself register it. Puck just shrugged and rose his hands, "I'm out," he said, slightly dejectedly before turning to walk away. "See you later, Rachel."

He'd _see_ Rachel _later_? She only had God to thank for the fact that her eyes didn't burn holes in the back of that stupid horndog's head!

"What the hell was that?" she seethed, spinning to face Rachel before she could stop herself.

The small brunette simply blinked up at her. "I beg your pardon, Quinn?"

Why did the girl always have to talk like she was from the freaking eighteen hundreds and why did Quinn always have to think it was so damn adorable! It didn't exactly help either that Rachel was wearing a jumper with a penguin on it (it's freaking September!) and a _way_ too short skirt. A skirt that revealed those legs that were wrapped around her in the locker room exactly a week ago now…

"What were you doing talking to Puck?" she hissed, taking a step closer and forcing her mind out of the gutter. The way those innocent doe eyes were still clouded with confusion was exactly why the girl needed to stay away from him!

Rachel's brows started to furrow into a frown (she wished she hadn't taken that step closer now; the smell of the girl's perfume was starting to stir in the air around her). "Because he and I are friends," she began, pausing briefly when Quinn scoffed, "and are working on a Glee number together."

Quinn honestly thought she might vomit. Dealing with Finn dating Rachel was one thing, but _Puck?!_ How long would it take before he got her into bed, or _worse_?

Oh, God, _please_ let the girl still be pro-choice like she was last year!

Fighting the urge to follow after Puck and threaten him away from Rachel within an inch of his life, Quinn took a breath and forced herself to scowl down at the girl (which honestly wasn't all that hard right now). "You don't have any friends, Berry," she sneered, if only to keep up the rouse. "And what do you mean, you're working on a Glee number?"

Rachel used to 'work on a Glee number' with Finn; she remembered it well. It was just easier to tell the fiery brunette to back the hell off without looking like a freak when the person she was singing with was her boyfriend!

She was too angry (and sickened by the thought of Puck and his hands all over Rachel) to care about the flash of hurt on the brunette's face at the 'no friends' jab.

"I _mean,_ " the smaller girl began, puffing out her chest in a way that made Quinn's stomach flutter, "that Noah is a guitar player – one of the only ones in Glee, might I add – and I need a guitarist for my performance this afternoon. _Not_ that it's any of your business."

Quinn bristled – she wasn't sure if she was more angry or amused at that last part.

She was about to craft her next response when it seemed to spill out of her like word vomit, "You can't date Puck."

"What?" _What?!_

Quinn froze. Sure, she'd been thinking it as soon as she'd seen the pair chatting at Berry's locker, but she certainly wasn't going to say it! Not like _that,_ anyway!

"I-I," she stammered, trying to recover from her faux pas, "Just stay away from him." It was poor, but she hadn't really left herself with much to work with. She needed to think and think _fast_. "I know you must be desperate for attention after Finn dumped you," she was actually pretty sure that Berry had dumped Finn, but this was all about the malice, "but you should stick to someone on your pay-grade. Like Jewfro."

She forced herself to smirk; she'd surprised even herself by blurting out 'you can't date Puck', but all things considered, she'd covered up her true intentions pretty well with that.

You know, those intentions being 'don't date Puck because I can't stand the thought of his hands all over you or him hurting you like he hurt me and you're way too innocent to get mixed up with him'.

She allowed herself to study the brunette in front of her, who had now gone from confused to visibly angry. That was a good sign – anger was something Quinn could work with. It was what they were both used to when it came to the other.

"I know that you despise me having any kind of friendship or enjoyment in my life, but I'll talk to and date whomever I want!" she exclaimed, her whole face contorting with exasperation. Like she'd found herself doing a lot lately (or the last four years), Quinn suppressed a smile at how cute the little diva was when she was angry. "And as it happens, I'm not remotely interested in dating Noah, so you needn't worry about me trying to steal him," she finished, somewhat quieter.

It knocked the wind out of Quinn's sails but flooded her with relief nonetheless.

Wait, _steal_ him? Is _that_ what Berry thought this was about?

Quinn scoffed. "I'm not interested in Puck so I couldn't care less if someone 'steals' him," she mocked, scornfully looking the brunette up and down. "And don't forget who's in charge around here, Berry."

At that, she managed to confuse herself _and_ visibly confuse Berry.

"What do you mean, Quinn?"

Fuck! What _did_ she mean?

"What I _mean_ ," she began; leaning in to the smaller girl menacingly and hoping that would be enough to carry whatever bullshit reason she was about to give Rachel, "is that I _own_ this place again now, and you need to remember your place."

Again, it was better than 'I'm a total creeper and you can't date anyone unless I'm happy with it – which will never happen'.

Rachel exhaled in exasperation, "Yes, Quinn, and you constantly remind me of my place every day, so I'm at no risk of forgetting! And once again, I'm not interested in _any_ boys right now, so please refrain from feeling the need to interfere every time I talk to one at my locker!"

Quinn saw red. "The reason I _interfered,_ Treasure Trail, is because when you were eye-humping Finn all of last year he was my _boyfriend,_ " she hissed, leaning in close. This felt more comfortable: arguing with Berry about something familiar and simple, breathing in each other's air only centimetres away from each other's faces.

"And yet you only seemed interested in him when he was getting attention from someone else!"

Quinn looked to her side and smirked before looking back at the girl in front of her; oh how right the girl was but for all the wrong reasons.

"Believe it or not, Treasure Trail, one doesn't exactly marvel in their boyfriend getting handsy in public with an argyle-wearing tranny that thinks wearing Easy Spirits is a thing. Some of us have reputations to care about."

She actually found it super cute the day that Rachel came into school in freshman year wearing the awful (seemingly custom-made?!) shoes, so naturally she tormented her mercilessly for it until the girl never wore them again.

"And _some of us_ have more to care about than reputation!"

It stung right down to her chest because it was true; Rachel always did see right through her (for most things, anyway). Still, it was a predictable response and she was better at hiding her feelings than the Pope was at being Catholic.

"And yet you'd _kill_ to have one that didn't place you at the sub-basement level of the social hierarchy where nobody knows or cares about you."

Quinn could usually see right through Rachel, too: the infatuation with Finn, the trying so hard, the constant attempts to forge a friendship between them…it was all the signs of a girl on the outside desperately trying to get in. She knew, because she was that girl once too.

It was sad, in a way, how they both saw the truth in each other more than anyone else did.

"Whatever you say, Quinn," the brunette rallied, obviously wounded. "I need to get to third period, if you'll excuse me."

Quinn _really_ wanted to smile at that: even after everything, the girl was _still_ being unnecessarily polite (even if it did sound clipped).

"Run free, Treasure Trail," she responded sarcastically, stepping out of the girl's way and waving her on sarcastically.

Before the girl could take more than two steps, though, Quinn grabbed her arm. "Look, just don't do anymore than sing with Puck, okay?"

For the first time maybe ever, Rachel was entirely silent, as she looked up at her with confused doe eyes, not even trying to wriggle her arm out of Quinn's relaxed grip.

"It's not because I want him or because I'm trying to ruin your life or whatever, it's because I don't want him to ruin yours," she said in a softness that she's only ever used once or twice (and each time with Rachel). "Or anyone's," she added hurriedly.

Those doe eyes simply stared back at her, the smaller girl tilting her head slightly. Quinn allowed herself to return the girl's gaze and immediately lost herself in those watery, wide brown orbs.

Confusion, compassion, hurt, anger, kindness…

She didn't know how much time had passed when her spell was abruptly broken by a loud scoff.

"Damn, Q, are you and Berry making it public now? Cute lover's embrace."

She let go of Rachel's arm (why the fuck was she still holding it?!) as though scolded.

"I was _actually_ just warning Manhands here to get the hell out of my way when I _say_ get out of my way," she said through gritted teeth, turning her back on the girl to regard Santana with a sneer. "Maybe your surgery is affecting your eyesight as well as your place on the pyramid and general dignity," she said in faux-concern.

Santana cursed in Spanish and looked ready to lunge, but Brittany softly touched the Latina's waist and whispered something in her rear.

"Whatever, bitch. Your girlfriend's gone."

Quinn spun around and, like the sneering bitch had said, Rachel must have fled.

"And _yours_ better get you away from me right now before I have you running suicides until the only thing you have left standing is your chest pumped with silicone," she hissed, turning back around to snarl at her former best friend.

Okay, so Berry sneaking off had made her angry, but only because _no one_ walked away from her!

"San, just leave it," Brittany cooed, whispering something else inaudible. Quinn bristled. "See you later, Q."

Quinn offered the taller blonde a small, forced smile. Brittany was pretty much the only person in the school that no one – not even Quinn – could be angry with.

As soon as Santana's retreating form was out of sight, Quinn turned at kicked the nearest locker, causing a loud bang that made several students gasp.

" _WHAT?"_ she barked, prompting anyone staring at her outburst to quickly mind their own damn business.

Wait, did Berry say she wasn't interested in any _boys_ at the moment?

* * *

Rachel spent the rest of the day studiously avoiding Quinn and practically brimming with restless energy. Whether it came from a place of anger or hurt or confusion (that was yet another thing she couldn't figure out this week), she couldn't _wait_ to perform her number in Glee this afternoon.

Her interaction with Quinn a couple of hours ago had her completely flummoxed. At first it seemed like yet another locker takedown, but what on _earth_ was that little moment at the end about?

Suddenly the blonde was concerned about Rachel being 'hurt', by Noah of all people? The girl has done nothing but torment her for years as though it's her life mission, and yet apparently she was warning Rachel away from Noah based upon noble intentions?

She was tapping her pen furiously at her desk during the last class of the day when the other Glee-clubbers joined the table. Still, that look that she and Quinn shared _was_ different – her arm still felt warm from the blonde's uncharacteristically light touch. And what did Santana mean by 'lover's embrace'?

"Hey, girl."

Mercedes, followed by Kurt, Tina and Artie, snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Hi, Mercedes. How are you today?" she responded, forcing herself to smile her show-smile. This had become a routine of sorts since Monday: Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Artie would join her in class, and Rachel would reign herself in as much as she could and observe the others as they chatted away.

She wasn't entirely sure of the cause of this recent development, but perhaps they felt the need to show some comradeship after the first week of junior year proved that a whole year of being in a club with some of the school's most popular students still hadn't improved any of their social standings.

"Just spent the whole of lunch cleaning slushie off Kurt," the girl huffed, looking towards the pale boy sat beside her (in an outfit even Rachel knew wouldn't be his first choice).

"Oh no, what happened?" said Tina as she sat down opposite the pair and beside Rachel.

Kurt bristled and took a sharp intake of breath. "That Neanderthal Karofsky happened."

"He's really going after you at the moment," Tina said with a frown.

Mercedes grunted, "Tell me about it."

"Well, if that's how he chooses to cope with his inevitable descent into a hair-receding, increasingly overweight gorilla stuck in Lima his whole life with the only highlight of his existence being a monthly stop at Saver Cuts then that's fine by me." Kurt said, shrugging and pulling that strange, judgemental face he often wears.

"I'm sorry that this is happening, Kurt. I'm sure that all our tormentors will live to regret it when, as you said, they are stuck in Lima and we are thriving," Rachel offered, albeit a bit forced. She was having trouble believing that herself, lately.

Kurt's expression morphed from irritated to…something else. "Speaking of our tormentors, how are things with you and Miss Fabray? I hear that things between you and our very own Lady Macbeth haven't improved since her spell at the bottom last year."

Rachel sighed. "No, unfortunately they haven't."

"It's weird, I mean Quinn doesn't talk to me or anything but she doesn't call me Wednesday Adams in the halls anymore, either," Tina said quietly.

"The bitch barely speaks to me anymore and I let her live in my house," Mercedes huffed. "Especially after I texted her on Monday."

Rachel's stomach did a weird twisty thing and her gaze snapped to a disgruntled Mercedes. "You texted Quinn? What about?"

"I just told her she was being mean and that I don't get why she still goes after you when she's chill with all of us," she explained with a roll of her eyes.

Kurt scoffed. "And she did _not_ take it well."

"Really? What did she say?"

"Told me to mind my own business, basically," she huffed.

Rachel processed that for a moment. It didn't particularly surprise her that Quinn responded as she did, but it gave her chest a warm, fluttering sensation to know that Mercedes – someone that she never thought particularly liked her – had gone out of her way to confront the blonde about her treatment of her.

"Well, thank you, Mercedes. That really is very kind of you," she said, smiling perhaps the first sincere smile she'd given all week. "I'm afraid, with regards to Quinn, I'm just as much in the dark as you are."

That wasn't necessarily true, but she was hardly going to tell the biggest gossips in the school that.

"It's just weird that she's still so mean to you. Like really mean," mumbled Tina.

"Please," Kurt laughed. "Quinn has _always_ been obsessed with torturing Rachel. Sure, she tormented us all the necessary amount before her pregnancy, but she always went above and beyond for you," he finished, pointing at Rachel definitively.

Artie finally added, "Yeah, but why?"

Their discussion was interrupted by a loud shriek from Rachel, a gasp from the Glee clubbers and Rachel's hard landing on the classroom floor as her chair was pulled out from under her.

Then, a rapturous laughter from the rest of the class.

Rachel groaned and rubbed her lower back, turning enough to see the perpetrator (although she had a pretty good idea from the whiff of perfume she got).

"Sorry, Treasure Trail," the blonde laughed, holding her hands in the air in faux-innocence as the gaggle of Cheerios behind her took pictures. "The chair just looked so _sad_ being trapped under that hideous skirt. I mean, really, pastel-coloured argyle?"

Quinn continued to laugh as she headed to the back of the class to take her seat, followed by her Cheerios as they sarcastically waved at Rachel.

"I think I'm starting to get an idea why," Kurt murmured as the teacher finally entered the room and Rachel took her seat once more, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Okay, okay, get settled," the tired old man snapped, unaware at what was causing the whole class to be giggling and whispering.

Now Rachel _really_ couldn't wait for her performance.

* * *

Santana tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the final bell of the day to ring. Brit wasn't in this class with her, she was still pissed at Q, and she was bored as shit.

She'd never been so relieved to feel her phone vibrate, or see that it was from Puck.

 _shes coming_

Woah, that shit was impressive. She didn't actually think he'd pull it off!

 _shit, rly?_

The response took a couple of minutes.

 _yh she wants me 2 play guitar 4 her in glee so made a deal_

The teacher cleared her throat impatiently but didn't say anything; Santana was still a Cheerio, after all – she could do whatever she damn well wanted.

 _well done, consider ur secret safe. didn't think youd actually pull this shit off_

 _i dont even have herpes!_

She was going to ignore that, but another text from the boy came through.

 _this isnt some prank on berry is it? cus i dont no if im down with that_

Santana rolled her eyes.

 _well now consider urself safe from the whole cheerio squad thinking you have it. and no its not a prank_

For once, she was actually telling the truth. Brit's idea of trying to talk to Quinn as if the bitch is even a human being fell through, so now it was time to play her own game. Q might not want to admit the truth to herself on her own, but a mix of alcohol and her _insane_ spin the bottle rigging abilities, Puck's party just might help push it.

She didn't even think this shit was going to work, but it was her turn and seeing Q and Berry at the same house party would sure as shit be entertaining as hell.

* * *

"Okay, everyone, we have two performances this afternoon to end our contemporary week," Mr Schue beamed. "Artie, you can go first."

For once, Rachel didn't mind going last; it meant that she could have the power of a diva walk out if needs be.

The next few minutes crawled by, but eventually the club were giving Artie a warm applause for his rap of Airplanes by B.o.B.

"Okay, Rachel, you're up next," said Mr Schue, a little less enthusiastically.

"Noah will be accompanying me on the guitar," she explained as she took her place by the microphone stand.

She heard a faint 'wait, what?' from Finn, but she ignored it. He'd find out soon enough that the song was hardly romantic anyway.

Letting Noah tune his guitar and prepare the sheet music she'd handed him earlier, she launched into a brief (for her) explanation of her song choice. "I expect that most of you will know this song; it's by a singer who, despite facing considerable adversity, has risen to fame and success." Quinn scoffed like she often did when Rachel spoke, but that only added fuel to her fire. "Although her vocal range can, at times, be a bit _sharp,_ " she added, looking pointedly at Quinn (who returned her gaze with a sneer), "she has a remarkable song-writing ability that is particularly appropriate to my situation at the current time.

"This song is about facing meanness and adversity, but choosing to rise above it because you know that, ultimately, the _person_ that seems the most out to get you is struggling more than they'll let on, and they are most likely cruel to you out of jealousy."

She didn't for one moment think that Quinn's behaviour towards her was out of jealousy, but her little speech had certainly gotten the often-vacant blonde's attention (even if said blonde looked like she was going to lunge at her any minute).

The rest of the Glee Club seemed to be paying pretty close attention too – probably because they smelt gossip in the air.

Nodding to Noah, he started strumming and she began to sing.

 _You, with your words like knives_

 _And swords and weapons that you use against me_

She gave it her all, but choose to keep her eyes closed for now.

 _You, have knocked me off my feet again,_

 _Got me feeling like I'm nothing_

At this, mostly because of what happened less than an hour before, she looked directly at the blonde.

 _You, with your voice like nails_

 _On a chalkboard, calling me out when I'm wounded_

 _You, picking on the weaker man_

The guitar picked up and she took her microphone from the stand, beginning to move around the room.

 _You can take me down_

 _With just one single blow_

 _But you don't know but you don't know_

She skipped around the front row of chairs, sending a wink at an impressed-looking Kurt and Mercedes before turning her attention back to Quinn.

 _Someday, I'll be living in a big old city_

 _And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

She didn't doubt that Quinn, in all her savage ambition, would become more than just mean in life, but this song wasn't about the blonde. It was about Rachel showing the blonde that she couldn't break her; no matter what game she was trying to play.

 _Someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

 _And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

 _Why you gotta be so mean?_

The blonde was sneering at her, digging her nails into her thighs, but that was expected. Brittany was swaying along to the guitar beside her, and next to Brittany sat a smirking (and impressed-looking!) Santana.

The snaked around the room once more and stroked one of Noah's arms in the brief guitar interval, if only to annoy the blonde more. Her intention hadn't initially been to enrage the girl, per se, but getting so visibly under the blonde's skin was giving her such a rush!

As she sang the second verse, the rest of the club (apart from Quinn), began to tap and dance in their seats to the upbeat song. By the time the second chorus came around, a few members were even singing along with her.

Rachel made a point to look at Quinn just enough so that it would be clear who the song was aimed at, but not too much so that she could retain plausible deniability.

When the song ended (with a dramatic guitar crescendo from Noah), Rachel was met with a rapturous applause – mostly from the half of the room that contained the losers of the club, but Santana was actively participating too.

"Shit, Berry! Who knew you had it in you?" Santana whooped, shooting a smirk at a visibly seething Quinn.

"Language, Santana!" Mr Schuester scolded feebly, turning to beam at Rachel. "Well done, Rachel. That was a really energised, fun performance!"

"Thank you, Mr Schue. I'm glad that the message of the song has seemed to _resonate_ ," she grinned, choosing not to look at Quinn as she took her seat.

It didn't take long before that angelic voice laced with malice made itself heard. "Cute performance, Berry. I'll be sure to remember it when you're serving me in an off-Broadway café where all the other rejects work singing Disney songs at minimum wage just to get by."

It took the smile off her face, but not the wind from her sails. Her performance was well received, she'd made progress with some of her fellow Glee-clubbers, and she was going to her first party in a matter of hours!

This week might have been a confusing, emotionally draining mess, but it still had _some_ plus-points.

And, Quinn wouldn't even be there at the party tonight to rain on her parade!

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. More soon. Really looking forward to you all reading the next chapter. Keep the reviews coming!


	7. Downtown

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews/favourites/follows. Here's the next chapter - hope you enjoy.

This chapter is named after the song (and classic) 'Downtown' by Petula Clark.

* * *

Downtown

After Cheerios practice (and working out her rage by running the girls ragged), Quinn went for an angry run that had absolutely everything to do with getting her pre-baby body back and absolutely nothing to do with Berry's little performance.

It wasn't like the song wasn't well deserved or accurate, but she couldn't believe the girl's nerve! Despite everything that happened between them in the last week, the girl was just so _confident_ and seemingly unaffected when Quinn was the total opposite!

Not only that, but the girl had made her look like an idiot in front of the whole of Glee Club and that was _bound_ to get around the school quickly – she could hardly ease up on Berry after that!

The only thing about today that _didn't_ make her feel sick to her stomach or encapsulated with murderous rage was the fact that Berry really _was_ only just talking to Puck for the song. But still!

And then there was Santana - a thorn in her side that was getting uncomfortably close to the truth, and her pissed off former best friend wasn't exactly being quiet about it either.

After checking her phone and seeing that she'd been running for almost two hours (and had seemed to gravitate to the street before Rachel's), she cursed under her breath and headed home to get ready for Puck's stupid fucking party. She was seriously considering skipping it this morning, but after today she couldn't afford to miss it. As newly reinstated Head Cheerio, she couldn't really afford to miss the first party of the year anyway.

She hissed when she felt her phone buzz as she jogged back to her house; if this was Santana sending another gloating text about Berry's Glee performance (or _anything_ Berry-related), she was seriously going to consider asking Coach if homicide is a viable option for squad disobedience.

 _hi quinn, we were just wondering what time u were getting to the party tonight? :)_

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes at the pathetic (and obvious) group effort of some freshman and sophomore Cheerios to get in with their leader. She considered ignoring the message altogether, but with Santana there she'd need all the allies she could get.

 _9.30_

She couldn't be bothered to send anymore than that, but they were lucky she was replying at all. Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

 _cool, do you want a ride with any of us?_

Wow. She was sure she wasn't this much of a kiss-ass when she was a freshman.

 _no_

She considered offering an explanation (she was actually driving there alone), but she didn't want to encourage that kind of pathetic behaviour from anyone on her squad. It was all about appearances, after all.

After taking a hot, angry shower she wrapped her hair in a towel and opened her wardrobe. It was nice to know she could actually fit into her pre-pregnancy clothes again, but she didn't really see the point in wearing wholesome floral dresses anymore, mostly because it wasn't who she was anymore – if it ever even was. Instead, she settled on some dark, tight low-cut jeans (it was all about the abs, after all) and a skimpy, white lace top.

It didn't look Santana slutty, but it still showed off her (many) assets. Her mom was too busy sucking up to her to make a comment anyway.

She was just about to start curling her hair when her laptop came alive and pinged with a notification.

She narrowed her eyes. Berry had posted a MySpace update.

Quinn let out a dry chuckle and paused getting ready in order to click play on the update. Some (and by some, she meant Santana) might say it's weird to have notifications set for when Berry updates her MySpace, but she'd set it up in freshman year and it was always hilarious to finish practice and tear a new video apart with the other Cheerios when it pinged up on her screen.

She also liked (re)watching them alone in her room at night, but that was no one else's damn business.

Quinn pressed play and quirked a brow at the girl's song choice – Downtown by Petula Clark.

It was a super Berry song, she supposed, and it was kind of sweet that a girl whose weekend plans probably consisted of Scrabble with her Dads was singing about going anywhere other than a supermarket.

She watched with a small smile as the girl, visibly excited about something, began to sing.

 _When you're alone, and life is making you lonely_

 _You can always go_

 _Downtown_

 _When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry_

 _Seems to help I know_

 _Downtown_

Berry had definitely had a tough week; that was for sure (once again because of her). Her Dads were probably taking her to a community theatre show or something.

 _The lights are much brighter there_

 _You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares_

 _So go downtown, things'll be great when you're_

 _Downtown, no finer place for sure_

Quinn smiled softly at the way the diva clenched her eyes shut and raised her right hand dramatically as she hit the chorus, enthusiastically performing to her audience of one.

 _Downtown everything's waiting for you_

 _Downtown_

She couldn't help but allow the smile on her face to stay there as she watched the rest of the performance. The girl just had so much boundless energy and optimism – something Quinn wished she could just bottle up and drink at times.

As the number came to a close and Berry thanked 'everyone' for listening, Quinn did what she always did. Appearances.

 _Cute performance RuPaul, maybe someday you'll get taken somewhere that isn't the local theatre by someone that isn't your dads_

Biting her lip, she hit 'comment', reasoning it was one of her less brutal comments anyway. Once it was posted, she signed out of her account and did the other thing she always did.

 _Really good performance, love the song x_

She pressed the comment button under a guest account. It was something she'd started doing in freshman year as well, and ever since Berry would always reply with an adorable (and sad) enthusiasm, urging the 'kind reviewer' to reveal their 'true identity'.

Quinn could only imagine how Berry would feel if she did.

Putting her laptop aside and going back to her mirror, Quinn started mentally preparing herself for a whole night of keeping up appearances, dodging drunk horny football players and trying not to strangle Santana.

* * *

Rachel was brimming with nervous energy as she walked up Noah's street at 9pm (after extensively researching appropriate party etiquette, she forced herself to _not_ show up at 8.30 like her every instinct told her to). She'd told her Dads that she was sleeping over at Mercedes' house, and they were so delighted with the news that they didn't think to question why they were dropping their daughter off on a street that a dentist would definitely _not_ live on.

Humming both anxiously and excitedly, she hovered just behind the corner that led onto Noah's street. She could already hear music pounding from the house walls and hear the sound of groups of people shouting, singing and entering the house.

How were all these people going to react when they saw Rachel Berry, McKinley High scum-of-the-earth, enter what is obviously their territory? She felt out of place enough at school, so she couldn't possibly imagine how she was going to feel in the middle of a party full of the very people that made her feel so unwanted.

But then, she reasoned, Puck – the host – had invited her. On Finn's behest, at that! So how unwelcome could she really be if two of the most popular boys in school wanted her there? Plus, if Quinn wasn't going to be there, then the level of torment she'd have to endure would probably be considerably less.

Although slightly anxious that this all may be some cruel prank, she held faith that Finn would not allow such a thing and turned the corner.

She was immediately met with wolf whistles from some football players she'd never seen before that were stumbling out of a car.

"Damn, Berry, who knew you had such an ass?" one leered, winking at her.

Suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to reprimand the boy for his sexist and lewd comment, she stifled her dismay and gave him a nervous nod instead.

"Fuck, nice outfit Berry!"

For the first time maybe ever, that comment on her clothing choice wasn't actually laced with sarcasm. Looking down, she once again analysed the outfit that she'd spent hours deciding on before she'd left the house.

Though her peers would say otherwise, she wasn't _completely_ socially inept: she knew that it would be open season if she arrived wearing anything argyle (although she _was_ very tempted by an argyle vest top she found), so instead she took a leaf from the book of Rachel Berry as Sandy from Grease: if you wanted to be cat-called instead of called names, it was all about the tight clothing.

With that in mind, she fished out a tight-fitting black top with a low neckline that Kurt had initially suggested to her when she was trying to lure Finn in last year, and accompanied it with a short camel-coloured skirt she hadn't worn yet. Although the look wasn't necessarily anymore revealing than what she'd normally wear to school, it was certainly a lot…tighter.

She didn't even want the attention of boys, per se: she just wanted to experience one night as a normal teenager where she didn't stick out like a sore thumb and perhaps even felt desirable. Despite all her nervousness, she genuinely was excited for the night to come.

Ignoring the stares from all those loitering in Noah's garden, she took a deep breath and headed inside the house.

The smell of beer hit her immediately, and she almost stepped out again when she saw how _full_ the house was already. Full of jocks, Cheerios and other pretty and handsome teenagers that managed to climb their way to the top of the school's rigid social ladder.

"Shit, you made it!"

Never in her life had she felt so relieved to hear the voice of Noah Puckerman.

"H-Hi, Noah," she responded nervously, looking up at the boy. He was in his usual attire: blue jeans and a tight-fitting black vest top, only unlike at school, he was carrying a beer bottle in his right hand.

"You're looking fine as hell, my little Jewish princess," he smirked, although for once in a way that didn't feel overtly offensive.

She blushed and looked to her feet (she'd gone for black pumps). "W-Well thank you, Noah. This looks like a very…busy party."

"Come on, babe, let's get you a drink, you need to relax a bit," he said, putting his arm around her and guiding her towards what she guessed was the kitchen.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be drinking tonight, Noah, I-

"Babe," he interrupted, fixing her with a stern stare and placing either hand lightly on her shoulders. "This is a _high school_ party, and everyone here will be drunk in a half hour. You need to relax."

She looked over her shoulder – were these people not drunk already?!

"It's illegal."

He scoffed. "It's a rite of passage."

"I don't want to get drunk and end up like one of those girls you see on TV adds."

"You wont! Look, let me make you one drink, okay? No one is asking you to get drunk – just have some fun and loosen up a little bit," he reasoned, putting on his best 'innocent' face.

She tapped her foot nervously and eyed the table full of various liquors, "I've never had a drink before."

Before Noah could answer, he was shoved aside by Santana.

"As sad as that is, it's also not surprising," the acid-tongued cheerleader quipped, regarding Rachel with an up-and-down stare. "Looking good, Berry. Who knew you had something in your closet that doesn't look like my dead great abuela's curtain."

She didn't really know whether or not to take that as a compliment, but by Santana's standards it was relatively amiable so she forced a smile in response. "Thank you, Santana. You're looking very nice yourself."

And that she was: the Latina was wearing a tight-fitting (and very short!) black and white patterned dress with a pair of sleek black heels to match. Although slightly intimidating, it also solidified Rachel's growing suspicion that she herself was at least _somewhat_ into women (beyond Quinn, that is).

Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, stop perving on me and have a drink," she said, pulling out a red paper cup from a large pile and pouring some see-through liquid into it. "What d'you take, Berry? Lemonade, coke or juice?"

Rachel blinked. "What?"

Noah butted in before Santana could say anything else, rubbing his arm from where the girl had shoved him aside and looking at her irritably. "She means what do you want your drink with: coke, juice, whatever. The Puckster's got it all," he smirked.

"Uh…"

Santana cursed in Spanish and ran her hand through her hair impatiently. "D'you like cola, Berry?"

Rachel simply nodded mutely and watched as Santana gave her a sarcastic thumbs up and filled the rest of the cup with the fizzy dark liquid.

"Here," the Cheerio said, handing Rachel the cup.

Too afraid not to accept (and also still recovering from the fact that _Santana Lopez_ just made her a drink), she held the cup up to her nose and sniffed it. "Thank you, Santana," she stammered. "Uh, w-what…what is it?"

"Give me strength," the girl muttered to herself, before she was softened by the appearance of Brittany at her side.

"Hey Rachel," the tall blonde smiled kindly, "You're looking super hot. I like how the top you're wearing doesn't have all those gross squiggly patterns on it you usually wear."

Rachel smiled back at the girl, partly because she knew Santana would punch her if she didn't but mostly because she knew the blonde didn't mean any malice by it. "You're looking wonderful yourself, Brittany."

Brittany beamed. "The party's totally awesome Puck," she said, not noticing the boy wink in response or Santana stomp on his foot with a glare afterwards. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Berry was just asking me what's in the drink I made her," Santana said with a roll of her eyes, looking over her shoulder to the party getting progressively busier behind her.

With barely a moment's warning, Brittany bounded forwards and sniffed the cup. "Oh, nice. You should have a sip, Rachel."

Not wanting to anger Santana and (relatively) trusting Brittany, Rachel took a tentative sip of the liquid.

Huh. That wasn't half bad!

"It tastes just like cola," she said with a smile.

Brittany smiled back; Santana rolled her eyes and Noah smirked.

"Vodka and cola," Brittany explained.

If this was what vodka tasted like, Rachel didn't know why her Dads were always saying how disgusting it is!

"Well, thank you, Santana."

"Yeah, whatever." The cheerleader turned to Noah, "Puck, is your spare room unlocked?"

"Yeah," the boy grumbled, gesturing towards the stairs.

"Cool." Without a second glance at Rachel, the girl grabbed a giggling Brittany's hand and set off towards the staircase.

"See ya later," Noah winked, heading off towards the living room and main source of the party. Rachel absentmindedly wondered where Finn was.

She took another sip from her (surprisingly nice) drink and marvelled in how well things were going so far. Santana had even made her a drink!

The pleasant surprise left as soon as it came when she heard a familiar voice (or rather sneer) coming from behind her.

" _Manhands?!_ What the hell!"

* * *

Quite a short chapter but next one will be longer. More soon.


	8. Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

A/N: Here's the next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews so far - keep them coming. I know that some of you are unhappy with Quinn and I totally get that - that's my intention. I want her coping with her sexuality to be as realistic as possible and as nuanced/painful as it so often is in real life. I want to do all sides of Quinn's character justice: she is strong, independent and kind at heart, but at this stage of her development she was also extremely selfish and had a tendency towards lashing out. Don't worry, though - Rachel will start to stand up for herself more.

This chapter is named after and very influenced (from Quinn's perspective) by the song 'Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby' by Cigarettes After Sex. It's a really good song so do give it a listen. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

Quinn charged into the kitchen, honestly surprised that her legs were even carrying her at this point.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" Berry (and yep, it _was_ Berry! As if she wouldn't recognise that ass anywhere…) turned around with those big fucking doe eyes, looking confused and wary.

"I…." She trailed off; distracted for a moment by that _very_ low and _very_ tight-fitting top the girl was wearing… "Are you seriously asking what _I'm_ doing here? I'm the head cheerleader! What the hell are _you_ doing here?! I think you got lost on your way to the Tranny Prom, Manhands."

Was _this_ what the girl had been singing about in her MySpace video? Fuck! Since when was it difficult to avoid Rachel fucking Berry!

Rachel must have noticed her ogling because the girl looked down at her outfit self-consciously. "I…I was invited," she offered, her voice small.

"I thought you were against lying or whatever," she dismissed flippantly.

"She ain't lying, babe; I invited her."

Quinn's stomach turned and she spun around to narrow her eyes at Puck.

"Why?" she ground out, her teeth clenching.

The stupid arrogant manwhore just smirked and shrugged. "She's hot – thought she deserves a good time. Why should a smoking girl like her be alone in her room on a Friday night?"

Quinn glanced back to Berry, whose cheeks were now turning red, which in turn made Quinn's entire _vision_ go red.

She took three slow, threatening paces towards the boy, who at least had the good sense to look slightly less fucking smug. "I will personally see to it that your cold, lifeless STD-ridden body is floating in Lima Creek before _you're_ the reason she isn't alone in her room on a Friday night – father of my child be damned," she whispered dangerously into his ear.

"Why do you care so much?"

Wouldn't he like to know! "That's none of your business. Just stay the hell away from her."

"You know babe, if you want me back all you gotta do is a-

"I would rather have a threesome with Mr Schue and Coach Sylvester than even _think_ about being with you again," she hissed, glad that she was too in Puck's face to see if that had stung him a little _too_ hard. She just needed him and his manwhore, ridiculously fertile body to stay the hell away from Berry!

Puck suddenly took a step back and gasped, running his hands through his stupid mohawk and hanging his mouth open as if he'd just found out the best thing ever. "Oh, I get it."

"Get _what?_ "

He studied her for a moment, and then looked at Berry – who for her part was just stood in the corner of the kitchen sipping anxiously at whatever was in that red cup. Shit, what _was_ in that red cup and who the hell made it for her!? If Puck had put something in her drink-

"I invited Berry because I like her. _Not_ in that way," he added hastily. "You two have a _great_ night."

With a suspicious as hell wink, the boy sauntered off, leaving Quinn staring dumbly at the visibly nervous brunette. A few stragglers were there too refilling their drinks, but who the hell cares about them?

"Just stay out of my way," she sneered, shoving past Berry and towards the downstairs bathroom, feeling like she was going to start hyperventilating at any minute.

What the hell did Puck mean by _'I get it'_? How the hell was she supposed to relax when Berry was here, carrying the knowledge that they'd kissed last week in one hand and God knows how much liquor in the other, surrounded by literally everyone even remotely socially relevant in the school?!

* * *

As far as Quinn encounters went, that one really wasn't so bad. Or maybe it was, but she didn't seem to mind so much now that she'd had another three cups of 'vodka and cola' and hadn't seen the blonde in at least fifteen minutes or whenever it was she'd stormed out of the kitchen.

She did wonder what Quinn had said to Puck, but the conversation didn't reek of 'prank' to her since the blonde looked ready to slit the boy's throat so it was hard to believe they were in cahoots.

Honestly? She was just pleased that Quinn seemed murderously angry with someone other than herself. Plus, this drink was making her feel fantastic!

"Rachel? What are you doing here?"

Finn! She was wondering where he was, since he was the one that wanted her there after all. "Finn! It's so nice to see you!"

She went in for a hug, which the boy clumsily returned due to filling his cup with beer from the keg at the same time.

"Uh, thanks. You too I guess, even if it's a little weird," he chuckled nervously.

Weird? Finn clearly must have his head all over the place if he found her presence here strange when he was the one that wanted her to come! Perhaps he was trying to 'play it cool'.

"I understand that it must be strange for you: my being here, in what I suppose you may call your _scene,_ without having arrived on your arm. But I think that this will be fantastic for our friendship!"

The tall, football letterman-clad boy frowned. "Uh, Rachel, are you drunk?"

"Finn! I've only been here for perhaps twenty minutes!"

She certainly felt friendlier and more socially confident than usual, but that hardly meant she was drunk!

"You're just talking a little funny and your breath kinda stinks."

Rachel's hand shot to her mouth. "WHAT?"

"No, no, I mean of alcohol! Not, like, anything bad or anything."

She lowered her hand, although still felt slightly horrified. "I'm not drunk, I'm having fun – something that has been exceedingly lacklustre in my life as of late."

He studied her for a moment. "How come you're just stood in the corner of the kitchen alone?"

"Well, the alcohol is here," she explained with a simple wave of her hand, before clocking the alarm on Finn's face and hastily adding, "and I am also avoiding Quinn."

"Why Quinn? Is she still being super mean? I thought your performance today was cool, by the way," he added with a small, lopsided smile.

"Thank you. I mean, I'm just hiding from all of the popular kids." That wasn't necessarily true, but it really wasn't that _untrue_ either.

"Uh, Rach, that's gonna be kind of difficult when this whole house is full of popular kids," he chuckled.

The boy had a point: what was the point in her coming to this party and then spending the whole evening in the kitchen?

"You're right. Thank you, Finn," she said, before determinedly striding towards the source of the party in the living room.

It was time to face the music, Quinn be damned!

* * *

"Uh, okay…"

Finn stared after Rachel, checking out her ass on the way, as she marched off into the living room.

Huh.

He took a sip of beer and stared at the wall. Rachel sure seemed pretty happy to be at a party. Why had he never thought of that?

Oh, yeah, 'cus he thought if he took her to one she'd be all weird and cramp his style in front of all his friends. He loved her for being all loud and annoying or whatever but everyone else would just make fun of him if he took her and then he'd have to get into a fight with his team about it or Rachel would get all mad or whatever and then he'd have to choose between Glee and football again.

"Sup my man."

He gave Puck a high five and took another sip of his beer. Even if the guy got his girlfriend pregnant and was kind of a bastard, they were still best friends.

"Hey. Do you know Rachel's here?"

"Yeah, she asked to come so I invited her."

"Do you think that means she wants me back?" he asked, trying to remember his conversation with her a minute ago. She definitely seemed happy when she saw him and she gave him that hug too.

"Why would it mean that?" Puck did that annoying cocky scoff thing and poured some tequila straight into his mouth. Finn wrinkled his nose.

"Well why else would she want to come to one of these? She must want to see me!"

"Uh, dude," Puck patted him on the shoulder; "Berry isn't interested in you anymore. You need to move on."

He frowned. "Why are you saying this? Are you dating her behind my back?"

He'd fucking kill him!

"No way, dude. I'm just saying you need to move on, trust me."

Why the hell was everyone always telling him what to do about Rachel all of a sudden?!

"You're wrong," he said, storming off in the direction Rachel went.

* * *

High school parties really weren't as big and bad as she thought they'd be!

There may be some naysayer cheerleaders glaring at her and making comments but that didn't matter when she felt so carefree and, quite frankly, attractive for once! In the last half hour, all she'd done was dance, drink some vodka cola and make small talk with some modestly popular football players.

She didn't even mind the pounding, derogatory music typically played at these kinds of events for once.

As the song changed to something else that still sounded the same, she danced towards the middle of the room and beamed both inside and out when some handsome football player she'd seen talking to Finn before grabbed her hand and span her around.

"Careful, new kid, you might catch aids by touching _that_."

Some cackling brunette Cheerio was the culprit. What was her name? Zoe…? Lucy…? Ah, _Nicole –_ that sounded right.

"That is a very insensitive remark, Nicole. It's a shame you can't have fun like I am instead of being such a sour lemon," she retorted, noticing her words slurring slightly. Huh.

Before the now scowling Cheerio could respond, Santana and Brittany appeared out of nowhere.

"Shit, Nadia, even Berry doesn't know your name. Why don't you go into another room where you might actually be semi-memorable – like the bedroom if you pick someone _really_ desperate?"

Santana strolled casually past Nicole – Nadia (?!) – and sarcastically patted her on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go and get us a drink, Britt."

"Wow."

Brittany bounded up to her and beamed. "I know, right? San totally likes you really. She says she's growing on you like a tuna, which is totally nice because tuna tastes great on the sandwiches my mom makes."

She was pretty sure Brittany had meant 'tumour', but she was too happy to care or bother correcting the girl. She just wanted to dance!

Brittany must have read her mind because next thing she knew she was pulled into the air and span around by her!

"Put her down, Britt, people are going to see her penis under that skirt and this is a party, not an Opera special on someone born with a bit of both."

Rachel laughed as Brittany gracefully set her back down on the sticky-with-beer floor.

"I can assure you that I don't have a penis, Quinn. You can feel if you like!"

"What did you just say, you little freak?"

If the blonde was so hell-bent on calling her a transvestite then there was no time like the present to prove her wrong! She was about to do just that when she felt a hand grasp her own.

"No one wants to see that, Berry," Santana whispered, appearing suddenly at her side. "I think what Berry is trying to say, Q, is if you're so obsessed with her anatomy then maybe you should take a look."

Oh Barbra! "Santana, that is _not_ what I me-

"I am _not_ obsessed with Berry's _anatomy_!" the blonde hissed, accentuating that last word as if it were the most disgusting thing ever. The girl didn't seem to mind last week, whatever the motive behind it! "I just don't want to see her flying around in my face when I'm trying to keep my food in. Why don't you go back upstairs and focus on the _anatomy_ that _you're_ so interested in, Santana?"

She butted in before Santana could respond, because she _really_ didn't want to deal with this right now – what she did want was another drink, and then to dance!

"I'm going to get a drink. Quinn, if you don't like my face, then stay out of it!"

She manoeuvred her way around drunk dancing teenagers and barely registered Santana's sharp cackle as she left a very red Quinn Fabray behind her.

* * *

Was the girl freaking insane?! Stay out of her _face?_ She might as well have written and signed a confession letter to Santana confirming that they'd kissed!

"Hear that, Q? Berry wants you to stop getting so close to her _face_."

"Shut the fuck up, Santana," she seethed, shoving past the girl and making her way towards a group of Cheerios. She smirked how even the drunkest of students scrambled out her way to make room for her path.

She stood chatting absentmindedly to whoever the hell she was with, too in her own mind to even care that everyone here seemed desperate to get in her good books again. After she spent at least ten minutes freaking out in the bathroom, every footballer, Cheerio and moderately popular kid under the sun was flocking at her side just _desperate_ for conversation. Usually she'd love it, but right now she just wanted to be in bed and not around Berry or Santana or all these people to please or _drunk_ Berry.

Speaking of…she needed to deal with that! She didn't want Berry saying more than she'd already had, but she also didn't want Puck or anyone else for that matter taking advantage of the fact the girl had probably never had anything stronger than juice before.

Her stomach turned more at the thought of the latter than the former, but nobody needed to know that but her. Especially Berry.

Spotting the brunette coming back from the kitchen in a stride wobblier than she'd like, she caught the girl's arm that wasn't carrying a beer. Seriously, a _beer?!_

"Quinn, unhand me!"

She winced at how that sounded. "Shut up!"

With an ironclad grip, she dragged the huffing brunette into the slightly more private hallway. The people making out there were too busy to listen to them anyway.

"You're too drunk," she said, placing the girl carefully against the wall and standing in front of her to prevent her inevitable escape attempt.

"Nothing of the sort! Simply drunk off dancing and sunshine," the girl slurred, licking her lips then wincing. "Party pooper."

"I am _not_ a p-…" She stopped herself – why the hell was she defending herself to Berry! "Did you just drink something in the kitchen? I saw you like ten minutes ago and you're even more embarrassing than you were then!"

Berry licked her lips again, unaffected. "Yes, some kind boy gave me two shots of something called tequila. I'm not quite sure I like it."

"Don't just drink something that some creepy horny teenage boy hands you!" She barked, getting so close to Berry their chests were practically touching before she even realised what she was doing.

God, she knew the girl was socially naïve but seriously?!

"Stop trying to rain on my parade, Quinn. I'm simply enjoying my night."

"I'm not trying to rain on anything and not everything is a freaking musical, Berry!" she hissed. God, she was so frustrating! "Those asshole boys know that you're a loser that's never even been to a party before and they're trying to take advantage of that by plying you with alcohol!"

Okay, so she might be crossing the line with Berry for like the millionth time this week but…screw it! She wasn't going to let what happened to her happen to Berry and the thought of one of those _gorillas_ having their hands all over the girl….

"They're just being nice," the brunette pouted. Ugh, why did the girl always have to be so freaking cute?!

"I could count the amount of _nice_ people in this house on one hand – they're leering at you like you're a piece of meat!"

"How do you know that they're l-huh," the girl paused to hiccup, "leering at me?"

 _Because I've been staring at you all night like a total creeper too, you idiot!_

"Because you're finally wearing something that isn't totally disgusting and boys like anything with boobs."

Berry hit her on the shoulder playfully and it took every inch of Quinn's willpower not to properly punch the girl back – at least then she might sober up! Or wrap the girl in a hug because that was freaking adorable.

"Careful, Quinn," – she hiccupped again, "that almost sounded like a compliment."

She felt her cheeks redden but disregarded it with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "It wasn't; high school boys have low standards."

"Whatever you say, Quinn," the girl sang, swaying from side to side along with the music bouncing off the walls. In another world she'd be drunk too and swaying with her, but this wasn't a world where she could dance with Rachel Berry or be drunk around high school boys ever again.

"Just be careful and stay the hell away from Puck." With that, she spun around and headed back towards the party, but not without taking Berry's beer with her.

She smirked as she heard an indignant 'thief!' called from behind her.

* * *

"I think Quinn Fabray was put on this earth to prevent me from having a good time."

Santana blinked, genuinely surprised for not the first time tonight, when Berry took a seat on the kitchen stool beside her.

Before she could even respond, Berry spoke again, "Pass me a glass of alcohol please, Santana."

She snorted – what a fucking dork. "Here's a glass of alcohol, Berry," she said sarcastically, passing the girl a wine cooler from the end of the table.

"I didn't know you were friends with _that,_ Santana."

Cute that this bitch thought that just because she wasn't at the top of the pyramid at the moment that she could sass her. "And if I were, Berry would have one more friend than you. Unless you count the senior you're fucking just because you want to pass math, but I think he's only in it for the easy lay."

She smiled as she watched that bitch Anna's face fall. Yep – she still had it.

"Technically multiple more," Berry piped up, slurring her words and giggling. "I've made progress with some other Glee clubbers."

This shit was too good! "Good for you, Berry. Wanna go back to playing ring of fire before Berry makes you look even more pathetic, Anna?"

"What's that?"

Jesus fucking Christ. "Seriously?"

"I'll teach her."

"Why thank you, that is very ki-

"No you won't," she interrupted, scoffing at the sweaty footballer. How was someone that chubby even allowed on the team anyway? "What did Quinn do now?"

Britt would kill her if she knew she was asking Berry without her - and in front of witnesses – but what Britt didn't know couldn't hurt her and she couldn't give a shit about Quinn's privacy.

"Ugh! She told me to stop drinking because she hates all things fun!"

Ugh, Britt was right – the dwarf was kind of cute when she got all angry and it was funny as shit when she was drunk and angry. "Oh? Tell me more."

"Said high school boys have low standards so would take advantage of me," she carried on through hiccups, "How rude!"

"Yeah, how rude…"

Fuck their spin the bottle idea – that shit was straight out of a high school movie cliché anyway! If Q was freaking out over Berry being drunk and around boys, these two were doing just fine on their own!

"I just don't understand why she still goes after me so much – she isn't mean to any of the others in Glee anymore! Tell me, Santana – is all of this a ploy?"

She glanced at the others sat around the table: fuck it – they were all too drunk and preoccupied with ring of fire anyway. "Is what a ploy?"

The dwarf seriously just stomped her foot – or tried to, at least, before finding out the hard way that her feet wouldn't reach the floor on that chair and almost falling under the table. This shit was hysterical.

"Quinn! You! Being all strange!" The girl held herself up straight against the table and then gasped dramatically, looking from side-to-side. "Witches!"

"Berry, we aren't witches. Or maybe we are, but we aren't witches together. Not right now, anyway."

Rachel banged her fist on the table, "Then why is everything so weird!"

"Okay, you need to focus on something else before you get angry or emotional drunk." Sure this shit was hilarious, but there was no way in hell she was dealing with a drunk Berry unless it was a happy Berry that was annoying the shit out of Quinn. "Play ring of fire with us – Q won't bother you here because she hates my guts. And fun."

She winked at Berry and watched as the girl totally changed her vibe in the space of about two seconds and squeaked excitedly. Britt was right – maybe the girl wasn't so bad after all.

Well, drunken Berry wasn't at least.

* * *

Heading back into the living room, Rachel grinned. Ring of fire was fun! Picking up the last King and drinking the whole cup wasn't so fun and the taste was still in her mouth, but it made her feel even more buzzed and blurry and fantastic!

It must be at least midnight by now and the party was still raging on. People were dancing, making out, chatting on the sofa and various garden chairs Noah had brought in. Speaking of the garden, she hadn't yet ventured there yet…

Stumbling through the crowd, she stopped for a moment at the door when she saw a group of boys holding another upside down. Why would they do such a thing?!

"Chill, Berry, they're doing a keg stand," Noah said in passing before running over to join them himself. "My turn, wimps!"

She smiled when she saw a familiar face in the crowd of onlookers.

"Finn!" She beamed, thumping the boy on the shoulder. "How's your night going?"

"Fine," he grumbled. Why on Earth did he look so grumpy? Tonight was fabulous!

"What's the matter? AREN'T YOU ENJOYING THE PARTY?"

The boy winced but the shouting was necessary – the music from inside seemed to just get louder and louder!

"Why are you even here, Rachel?"

She blinked and took another sip of whatever Santana had given her. "Because you asked Noah to invite me."

"What the hell? No I didn't!"

"Yes you did, Finn!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I'd remember asking Puck to ask you to a party! I didn't even know you were gonna be here! Are you seeing him behind my back?"

Why was everyone playing games with her lately!

"No I am not, Finn Hudson! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASK ME THAT?"

He dragged his hand through his hair and shuffled uncomfortably. "Stop shouting, please!" Finn seemed far too concerned with what his fellow footballers stood behind him were thinking.

"MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!" She directed at them, and then turned back to Finn. "Why are you being like this?"

"Why are _you_ being like this?" he roared, dropping his beer when he threw his arms out dramatically. "Shit!"

"Being like WHAT?"

The music really was so loud, and the _chanting_ from those boys…

"Coming to this party all dressed up like that and saying that I invited you when I didn't! Why would you break up with me and then show up here and barely hang out with me all night?" he added quietly.

"I TOLD YOU WHY I BROKE UP WITH YOU, BUT I STILL WANT TO BE FRIENDS. I AM SORRY IF MY PRESENCE HERE IS BOTHERING YOU."

Why was everything getting so much louder and blurrier in her head? She didn't feel like this five minutes ago! What was Finn even _talking_ about?

"Hudson got dumped by Berry!"

"Dude, I thought you said you dumped her because she was too clingy?"

The tall boy – now shaking with rage – span around to face his heckling teammates. "Shut up!"

"Finn Hudson, did you lie about our break-up?"

"Just shut up, Rachel! Please," he said, dragging his hand up his now sweaty and increasingly red face.

She could feel her heart dropping to her stomach. "Why would you tell people that? We ended things ami…ami…amicably!"

She hiccupped – it was so weird how her words just wouldn't cooperate with her brain.

"Because I didn't want to tell people that I got dumped by _you_!"

She felt her eyes well with tears and her chest constrict. "How could you say that?" she cried, "I thought we were friends! After everything we've been through in the last year, how could you still think so little of me?"

"Maybe I don't want to be your friend!"

Finn looked like he regretted it as soon as he'd said it, but that didn't matter. She barely even registered what his face looked like because it was moving along with everything else in the garden. She could literally _feel_ the music banging inside her brain and there was a lump in her throat that she wasn't entirely sure wasn't vomit.

"Rachel, wait, I –

She didn't hear him. Her head hurt and her stomach was twisting and her mouth tasted disgusting and her vision was blurred and everything was moving and her legs felt like they weren't attached to her body and her cheeks were hot with tears and embarrassment.

At some point she'd manage to stumble her way back into the living room. Where even was the hall again? How was she even supposed to get home when her Dads thought she was at Mercedes' for a sleepover? How would she even get hold of them anyway – was her phone still even with her?

"Maybe you'll remember my name now, freak."

She looked up just in time to see that Cheerio from earlier (Nicole? Natalie? Nadine?) when her eyes – alongside everything else – were covered in ice.

* * *

Quinn was shoving her way through the crowd, barking at everyone to get out of her damn way but they were all way too drunk now to know or care that it was Quinn Fabray behind the barked orders.

She'd been stood at the other side of the room when she noticed Berry stumble through the patio doors and it didn't take long to realise the girl was freaking out. It only took her another few seconds to clock Nadia, a cup of some gross icy drink in hand, heading straight towards the hyperventilating brunette with an evil grin on her face.

It only took her another fragment of a second to begin pushing her way through the crowd, but it was too late. Berry was already doused in ice and a load of Cheerios – _her_ Cheerios – were already cackling.

"Couldn't find any slushie, but we thought a mix of Puck's _finest_ beer, red wine and ice would do."

Nadia wasn't laughing for long – Quinn had finally reached her target, and sent her flying across Puck's crowded dining room with a single push.

"Get the hell away from her!"

"What the fuck, Quinn?!" Nadia screeched, getting to her feet with the help of one of her pathetic friends.

"I _said,_ " she gritted out, "get the hell away from her before I beat you to the ground!"

Well, that effectively shut up all of her giggling friends – and everyone else in the room, now watching with wrapt attention.

"Are you okay, Berry?" She directed at the now-shivering, sobbing and clearly paralytic girl. Fuck!

"What the hell, Quinn! You slushie her all the time!"

She span back around to Nadia and took a threatening step forward. "Not when she's drunk, hyperventilating and vulnerable," she hissed, "and don't _ever_ equate anything I do with what you can do. You're _nothing_."

"What's your problem? You're way worse than us," piped up one of Nadia's friends that Quinn recognised from the bottom of the pyramid.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want – I'm head cheerleader, and you two are off the squad."

She tapped her feet anxiously – she needed to get this situation under control so she could help Berry. Why the hell was everyone just staring instead of helping her? The girl was freaking out!

"You can't do that!"

"She can, bitch, and she did." Quinn had never been so glad to hear Santana's voice before in her entire life. "I got you, Q," the Latina whispered to her, before flanking her at her right side. "You're both shit anyway."

She nodded at Santana in thanks – feud be damned – and turned her attention to Berry. "Berry, get up," she said softly, taking a light hold of the girl's arm.

"G-Get off of m-me," the girl chattered, either from the cold or fear, "J-Just going to h-h-hurt me. C-Can't move – drank cup. Too sad."

Quinn's stomach twisted. "Rachel," she pleaded, "I know I'm your high school nightmare, but right now I'm just trying to help you. You're cold, way too drunk and surrounded by assholes that want to hurt you or have sex with you or worse. You can probably barely even understand me right now so just…please get up."

"P-Panic attack," the girl hiccupped.

This was getting nowhere. Santana was now in a shouting match with Nadia and that other bitch, and Rachel seemed to be getting more and more immobile and distraught by the second.

"Fuck." Not wasting another moment, she crouched down beside the girl (who'd fallen to her knees either out of shock or inability to move her limbs) and lifted her into her arms in a bridal carry.

She was pretty sure the girl was still trying to protest, but she wasn't really that strong or able to move her limbs anyway so it wasn't that much of a problem. She wasn't head cheerleader for nothing.

"You guys can't just have one rule for you and another for everyone else! Since when did you care about Berry?!"

Nadia was practically screaming now and, to Quinn's pleasure, was crying.

With Berry in her arms, she turned to face the two girls still arguing with Santana. Unsurprisingly, all the others had long since shut up.

"I'm pretty sure Coach Sylvester – alongside everyone else – has a _rule_ against assaulting a drunk, vulnerable girl having a panic-attack. You're off the squad, and if you don't turn around, shut the fuck up and leave this party _now,_ you'll be finding out just what it's like to get hit by an icy beverage every day for the rest of your miserable high school life," she hissed, anxious to get Berry upstairs and warm and away from whatever the hell made her just run inside hyperventilating.

"Chop chop, bitch," Santana added, clicking in the girl's face.

Quinn didn't bother to watch the girl leave; instead she turned and started charging towards the stairs with Berry in her arms, threw Santana a 'thank you' look over her shoulder and glared at everyone as they scurried to get out of her way.

She was only halfway up the stairs before the party carried on like nothing had happened.

"Q-Quinn?"

Berry was half-awake and slurring, her face still covered in tears. They were both covered in ice now.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered, a million thoughts racing through her mind, "You're with me and nothing's going to hurt you. Nothing's gonna hurt you, okay? I'm going to get you cleaned up and get you warm. You're with me and you're going to be alright."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed :) Keep reviewing - I really like hearing from you and I really do take it all in. Again, I really recommend listening to the song 'Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby' by Cigarettes Before Sex.


	9. Come On Mess Me Up

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter; didn't want to leave you all hanging. This one is named after 'Come On Mess Me Up' by Cub Sport. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Come On Mess Me Up

She knew it was wrong to be enjoying the feel of Rachel in her arms like this when the girl was too drunk to even realise what was going on and almost hypothermic, but she couldn't help but think this was the only chance she'd ever get to have a soft moment with the other girl.

Morals and normalcy were out the window tonight anyway – she'd just almost started a brawl with one of her Cheerios over Rachel in front of everyone and she didn't even care.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she headed straight towards the bedroom she knew all too well for all the wrong reasons.

"GET OUT!"

The two losers making out on Puck's bed quickly scampered, too afraid and drunk to double take at the sight of Rachel Berry being carried bridal-style in Quinn Fabray's arms.

Rachel, still mumbling incoherently and crying, was so far gone that the sentences she was trying to get out barely made it past their first syllables. Quinn could do nothing but whisper reassurances – she was pretty sure that if the girl was conscious enough to know what was going on, she probably wouldn't be that happy about Quinn being the one looking after her. Not that she could blame the girl.

Santana and Brittany came bursting through the bedroom door at just the right time.

"What can we do?"

Enemies or friends, she and Santana could always cut the bullshit and do what needed to be done.

"Reach into my back pocket and get my car keys. It's parked down the road. In the trunk I've got some gym clothes and my letterman – get them."

"Got it." After reaching into her pocket and getting her keys, Santana rushed out the door.

"I'll help, Q," Brittany said softly.

"W-Where am I?" the girl chattered out, sounding like what her mom used to sound like after 'bridge night'. Quinn's heart clenched.

"Hey Rach, it's Brittany. You had an accident but it's okay because we're going to get you warm and home."

The tiny brunette simply grunted sniffled and fell back into unconsciousness. Quinn thanked Brittany silently: they both knew it would be better for Rachel to hear Brittany's voice and not Quinn's, but neither of them wanted to acknowledge that aloud.

"We need to get her out of these clothes," she mumbled, placing Rachel carefully on Puck's bed – she really didn't give a shit if it would stain his shitty mattress.

"I'll do it."

It would be better for a myriad of reasons that Brittany did _that_ job – another thing both of them knew but chose not to discuss. She had a feeling Brittany had known for a while.

"I'll go and get a towel."

She knew Rachel would be in safe hands with Brittany, so once she'd crossed the hall and into Puck's bathroom she took a second to compose herself. No matter how badly she wanted to punch Nadia's face in right now, she knew this only happened because she'd drawn a target on Rachel's back – a target she'd never stopped highlighting for years.

It didn't even make sense that she'd reacted like she had: she was way worse to Berry on a daily basis anyway and she didn't even have being drunk as an excuse because she'd been sober all fucking night!

All she knew was that as soon as she saw Berry come in from the garden – drunk, crying and about to get hit by an ice-cold drink – she just went into autopilot.

Maybe it had a little to do with Quinn not liking anyone _else_ treating Berry like shit, but that was a can of worms she wouldn't even want to open with a therapist.

No one else seemed willing to help the girl anyway and if _she_ could get drunk, taken advantage of and pregnant last year in the company of _one_ high school perv, then who knew what the hell would happen to _Berry_ in a house full of them!

Every time she pictured Nadia's stupid fucking face she wanted to punch it until even her own parents wouldn't recognise her.

Now wasn't the time to think about any of that, though. She was a heartless, selfish bitch and even she knew that what just happened to Berry was wrong on so many levels. Fluffy blue towel in hand, she rushed back into Puck's room.

"How is she?" She handed the towel to Brittany and kept her eyes fixated on her shoes.

"She keeps mumbling something about an evil cup. You should change too, Quinn – you've got loads of gross icy stuff on you."

That wasn't really the answer she'd wanted, but it was helpful. "She must have played a drinking game," she said quietly, keeping her eyes anywhere but an unclothed Rachel. Yeah…her outfit was definitely ruined, but she could deal with that later.

"We played ring of fire," Santana hurried back into the room and threw the clothes onto the bed beside Rachel. "Shit, man, I didn't think. Berry seemed fine and happy and I thought it was funny as shit and she picked the last King card so she –

"It doesn't matter," Quinn interrupted, not wanting to deal with Santana's guilt right now. "This was, what, a half hour ago? It's probably all only just hitting her."

"Yeah, at the exact same time that bitch hit her in the face with a cup of whatever the fuck that shit was."

"C-Cold."

They all looked back to Rachel, who'd stirred back into consciousness. She was currently slumped next to Brittany at the edge of Puck's bed with the towel wrapped around her. Quinn felt a twinge of relief when she saw that the girl was at least talking again and shivering a little less.

"I've got some clothes for you, Rachel," she said as softly as she could, almost as if she didn't want the girl to recognise who was talking to her. Maybe she didn't – she was probably way more of a villain in the brunette's eyes than Nadia or some other nameless Cheerio was.

The soaked-through brunette hiccupped and snorted. "S-Sounds like Quinn but c-can't be Quinn! Just called me R-Rachel!"

Santana snorted, Brittany quietly shushed her and Quinn's stomach twisted.

"Hate to break it to you Berry, but it is Quinn – guess you should be grateful that she's so obsessed with you though, since she just saved your ass from some basic as hell Cheerio you sassed earlier."

Fucking Santana!

Rachel just scoffed, hiccupped again and then whimpered pathetically. "N-Nicole."

Santana cackled at that and pushed Berry – now dressed in Quinn's clothes, thanks to Brittany – lightly on the shoulder. Quinn didn't really get why but she didn't care right now: for the first time since Brittany had stripped Berry of her alcohol-stained and ice-covered clothes, she allowed herself to study the girl.

She was now wearing Quinn's far-too-big McKinley High gym t-shirt and way-too-baggy sweats and was curled up on Puck's bed in a foetal position. It looked really fucking cute.

Santana snapped her out of her Berry-induced trance. "Well it looks like you've got this covered, Q."

Wait, _what?!_ What the hell did that bitch think she was doing pulling Brittany towards the door!

" _Where the hell do you think you're going?"_ she hissed, every ounce of gratitude she had for Santana seeping out of her as the Latina's innocent smile turned into a scheming smirk.

"You were the one to rush to Berry's defence like some White Knight or some shit – we're going back to the party. Gotta make sure those bitches downstairs are back in line anyway."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" she screeched, looking to Brittany desperately. "You two are just going to go to a guest room and have sex!"

The taller blonde giggled and took Santana's hand. "San, we should totally go and do that."

Quinn could practically feel the soil falling over her head.

"You two know fine well that you'd be better to deal with this than me," she gritted out, glancing back at a sleeping Berry in panic.

"Nu-uh, Q," Santana grinned, shaking her finger. "We've both been drinking and have no car with us; _you're_ stone-cold sober and have your cute little mini parked just up the road."

She was going to rip that stupid smug finger right off! How could two people be so helpful and then so conniving in the space of ten freaking minutes!

"You can't leave me here with her!" she half-whispered, half-pleaded.

"Don't look so freaked, Fabgay – now's your moment." Santana casually threw her car keys back to her and Quinn barely caught them.

With that, the two girls – pinkies entwined – left the room giggling.

"Sorry, Q," Brittany threw over her shoulder, the bedroom door shutting behind them and effectively shutting her _in_ with Berry.

Oh, they _would_ be sorry!

"Crap," she whispered to herself.

* * *

Quinn had been silently freaking out for at least 120 minutes and Berry had been snoring softly for precisely 118 of those.

The party was still raging on downstairs; horny douche-bag couples were knocking impatiently on Puck's locked bedroom door every five minutes; Berry was still in the land of dreams about Broadway and big bad cheerleaders or whatever and Quinn was still wondering how the hell she'd got herself here.

How the hell did 'avoid being too close to Berry' turn into starting a fight with another Cheerio to defend the girl in front of literally _everyone,_ carrying her through to safety _bridal-style_ and then wrapping her letterman around the girl while she was sleeping. (Yeah, she'd also done _that_ around an hour ago because the girl was starting to look a little cold).

Now she was just sat on Puck's bed – of all the places in the freaking world! – anxiously watching a sleeping Berry and having no idea what to do.

Leaving the girl wasn't an option: there might still be unfriendly Cheerios lurking around downstairs, _something_ had obviously upset the girl before the whole Nadia thing, and whenever Berry woke up (which was looking like never!) she would probably feel like shit. And so she damn well should for getting so drunk and making _this_ become Quinn's Friday night!

She even had to raid Puck's closet for some dry clothes of her own since she'd given all hers to Berry, and it took a small eternity to find something in there that wasn't totally disgusting.

Earlier she'd tried looking for Berry's phone with the hope of calling the girl's dads but it was nowhere obvious to be found, and there was no way in hell she was feeling the girl up to find it while she _slept!_ She felt like enough of a perv as it was just watching the girl sleeping for two freaking hours.

It took at least another twenty minutes before Berry woke up. Maybe 'woke up' wasn't the right word, though, since the girl shot up like a rocket and ran straight towards the bathroom without so much as looking at Quinn.

Quinn narrowed her eyes – how the hell did Berry know where to find Puck's bathroom?

"Are you okay, Berry?" she asked casually, following the girl into the bathroom and shutting the door behind them. She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible: she wasn't sure how drunk Berry still was and she didn't want to sound too concerned but she also didn't want to sound like she was about to dump a slushie on the girl while she was down. Literally.

The answer to her question was pretty obvious: the girl in question was currently puking her guts up into Puck's toilet.

"Q-Quinn?" the girl groaned, unable to remove her head from the toilet bowl.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Rachel slumped even further and ran a hand through her hair, "Oh, Barbra."

Quinn didn't really know what to say since she could hardly say something mean right now, so she just stood in the corner silently and watched as the girl carried on throwing up. It must have only been a few seconds before she got restless and walked over to her.

"I'm gonna hold your hair back," she mumbled, then gently gathered the (slightly wet and gross) brunette locks into a ponytail and held it up in her hands.

Rachel hiccupped a thank you and carried on being sick, sometimes throwing in an 'oh, God' in there. Quinn was pretty sure God wasn't interested in helping either of them right now.

When it seemed like Berry was finally done, she stopped massaging the girl's hair (when the hell did she start doing that?!) and took a couple steps back.

"How do you feel?"

"I have no idea what's going on," the girl slurred, slumping against the bathroom tiles. Great, she was still drunk.

"You drank a bit too much." She withheld all the other details – Berry didn't really look in a fit state to handle them right now.

Hiccup. "H-How?"

Seriously? "I don't know, because you're like three foot two and drank half of Puckerman's liquor cabinet," she deadpanned, trying to keep some normalcy to this situation by not sounding like a _complete_ sap.

"W-Why are you here?"

Quinn was about to snap when she realised the question came from a place of self-consciousness and embarrassment, not rudeness.

She could practically _feel_ her heart melting all over again! "You got into a bit of trouble downstairs and…and I helped you out," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

That caused Rachel's eyes to shoot from the floor and look into her own. Shit!

" _Y-You_ did? Wait, what happened? Oh Barbra, I don't feel," – hiccough – "good. Eyes spinning."

Studying the girl in front of her, she thought for a moment. What did it matter? The whole school would be talking about it by Monday; Berry would find out anyway. Sighing, she sat down and leant her back against the wall opposite Berry.

"Something outside had upset you a-

Okay, why the hell was the girl crying again?! She'd barely even said anything!

"I – don't – have – any – f-friends!" the girl choked out in between sobs, throwing her head into her hands.

They both jumped when they heard a banging on the door. "Hey, get the hell out I need to use the bathroom!"

Irritated because it had made her jump and stressed because she had no idea what to say to Rachel she barked, "FUCK OFF!"

"Who the hell are you?!"

For the first time in what felt like years, Quinn smirked. "Quinn _fucking_ Fabray, so find somewhere else to pee before I come out there and kick you down the stairs!"

Her voice had sounded shriller that she'd have liked but it did the job: whatever asshole was pounding at the door had wisely taken her advice.

She almost wished he hadn't when she remembered that meant dealing with a still sobbing and drunk Rachel.

"You have the Glee Club," she offered weakly. She was hardly the best person to reassure a girl crying about having no friends when she'd been the one telling her for years that she had none!

"They b-barely – tolerate – m-me," she sobbed, then threw her arms out dramatically, "and now Finn h-hates me too!"

 _Finn_. She should've known that moron had something to do with it! She could barely believe she'd actually spent months trying to convince that oaf that he was the father of her child, but she was blaming that amongst many other things on baby hormones making her crazy.

"Finn's an idiot - whatever he said he'll probably come crawling back with some half-assed apology tomorrow." Not that she wanted him to! Puck and Finn and all those other gorillas out there could stay the hell away from Rachel as far as she was concerned.

The tiny brunette barely heard her and carried on crying into her hands. Quinn supposed this put Berry firmly in the 'happy to sad drunk in a matter of minutes' category.

There was nothing else for it. Berry was crying in a way that made Quinn's chest clench and she couldn't help it: not hesitating any longer, she shuffled across the bathroom floor, stopped next to the baggy-clothed mess that was Rachel and pulled the girl into her arms.

She'd already crossed enough lines tonight so screw it. No one could see them anyway and Berry probably wouldn't remember.

* * *

They'd been like this for a good ten minutes: Berry was freely crying with her head resting against Quinn's chest and Quinn? She was freaking the hell out but loving every minute of their closeness at the same time.

Still, this version of freaking out wasn't stopping her from running her hand in circles along Rachel's back and circling her thumb soothingly along the back of her hand.

It's not like they were _holding_ hands!

It just felt really nice to have the smaller girl cuddled into her like that; Quinn was only used to reluctantly being in the arms of some big, hulking boy whose body felt all hard and smelt like cheap aftershave and had arms that just made her feel trapped in, not comfortable. It felt much nicer to be the one doing the cuddling: Berry was so small and soft and smelt so fresh and sweet even after all that puking.

But none of that mattered because they were _not_ cuddling. She was just consoling a drunk girl and that was it!

"Look, Berry," she began after things had been quiet for a while, "this won't feel so bad in the morning. You're just drunk and –

"Everything is terrible," the girl whined, pushing her head further into her chest.

Quinn chuckled – Rachel wasn't wrong there.

"D'you have your phone? I should call your dads." She didn't really want to move right now, but the longer Rachel stayed in her arms the less self-control she was retaining.

"B-Bra," she hiccupped. Quinn widened her eyes. Okay, as much as she'd _like_ to find it for her, there was no way she could.

She was about to tell the girl to get it when Rachel gasped and started crying again. Dammit!

"I c-can't call my dads."

Quinn frowned – Berry called her dads once because the school had forgotten to stock up on her vegan lunch one day and this was way more important than that. "Um, why not?"

"I t-told them a lie!"

"What did you tell them?" Berry looked so guilt-stricken that Quinn was seriously concerned she'd told them she was going to hospital for chemotherapy or something!

"M-Mercedes. Sleepover. Said I," – hiccup - "was sleeping at her house."

Quinn laughed softly. "Jesus, Berry. They won't care – people lie to their parents all the time." _She_ sure as hell did.

That only seemed to make Berry cry harder. Great. And for once Quinn was trying to make her _stop_ crying!

"We have a," – hiccup – "no lying policy!"

Quinn's eyes rolled back so far she was pretty sure she saw her brain. At least the girl sounded more like herself and less like a new addition to Alcoholic's Anonymous, though.

"Berry, it really isn't that big of a –

"Yes it is!" the girl sobbed, clutching at the sleeves of the letterman jacket she seemed unaware she was even wearing. "They w-were so excited I g-got invited somewhere a-and if they see that i-instead of at a friend's h-house," – hiccup - "I went a-alone to a party a-and ended up like this then I'll look even m-more," – hiccup - "p-pathetic than I already do and they'll never let me out again!"

Quinn's stomach felt like it might drop out of her ass and she felt her own eyes sting with tears. She wrapped the girl even tighter in her arms but craned her neck away from her at the same time – in trying to reason with the girl she'd gotten uncomfortably close to brushing her lips against the girl's hair.

The last thing she needed was for it to look like she was trying to kiss Berry on the head!

"Okay, that's okay. Uh, I can, uh," she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't believe she was about to do this! "I can drive you home and we'll sneak you in."

That seemed like a fair suggestion, so why the hell was the girl crying even louder!

"They'll wake up! Daddy is a light s-sleeper!"

Oh.

Fuck! The Berry men might be card-carrying bleeding heart liberals but there was no way she'd make it out of that house alive if they woke up to find their daughter's biggest tormentor in their house. They'd probably think she'd spiked their precious baby girl or something and she couldn't even say she'd blame them.

It was word vomit. It was word vomit and a total loss of control and the beginning of the end and she knew it – she knew it before she even said it but she said it anyway:

"I'll take you back to mine."

Rachel stopped shaking in her arms and gasped. Or maybe it was another hiccup again, Quinn couldn't really tell. "What?"

"What?"

WHAT?

"Y-You just said you'd take me back to your h-house." Rachel was looking at her like she'd just grown a second head which, to be fair, would be more plausible than what she'd just offered because…what the hell!

"You're drunk and upset and shouldn't be alone so I'll take you back to mine."

Shut up shut up shut up!

Why did her voice sound so even and confident as if this was a done-deal! Quinn took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling – or to God for some sign of what the hell to do. This was okay; it made sense. It was the best option for her sake and Berry's: Rachel wouldn't have to face her dads and…well, Quinn wouldn't have to face them either.

All of a sudden, Berry flew out of her arms and scrambled to her feet, using the sink to help her stand. Quinn already missed the feeling of the girl pressed against her chest, but now wasn't the time to focus on that.

What was she even thinking?! _Never_ was the time to focus on that! She rushed to her feet as well just in case Berry wasn't as steady on her feet as she was trying to be.

"Why are you helping me? W-What's even going _on_?"

Seriously? She was asking this _now?_

"What am I – is this a Cheerios jacket?"

Rachel was looking herself up and down, obviously holding onto the sink for dear life and obviously freaking out. Why couldn't she just stay all silent and docile in her arms!

"Do you not remember anything?"

The answer to that seemed pretty clear already, but she seriously had no idea how she was going to explain all this to Berry. She barely knew how to explain it to herself.

"I…." Rachel squinted and pouted – it was cute but also concerning – then widened her eyes in horror. It was a little dramatic, but also a little funny. "Nicole threw a drink on me," she garbled.

Huh, that must be what that whole name thing was about. The stupid bitch wasn't memorable anyway. "Yeah, she did."

"B-But…" Rachel paused, double-took and then pointed at her theatrically, "You pushed her! D-Defended me!"

Quinn bit back the urge to lie: it would be easy enough to mislead Berry now, but at least twenty people had watched her send Nadia flying across the room and even more would be talking about it by now.

"Yeah, I did."

Rachel gaped at her, hiccoughed and stumbled slightly. Quinn was about to make sure the girl didn't fall and bash her head against the sink or something but Berry seemed to find her words again. "Why?"

Wouldn't she like to know! "That doesn't matter right now."

She took a step towards Rachel to help steady her, but Berry took a shaky step backwards and raised her hands like Quinn was about to hit her or something.

"G-Get away from," – hiccough – "me. No idea what's happening. H-Head," – hiccough – "spinning."

Ignoring her, she followed Rachel's backwards step with a forward one of her own. "I'm not going to hurt you, Berry. I'm trying to help you."

"All you e-ever," – hiccough – "do is hurt me!"

Rachel's words stung. The way the brunette was so obviously sceptical and afraid stung. It shouldn't, but it did.

"I know. But that isn't what I'm doing right now."

"G-Get away from me!" At the same time, Rachel lost her grip on the sink again and started to tumble. Quinn rushed forwards and thanked God she was used to catching girls falling from the air at a moment's notice.

She struggled with the girl for a minute, all the while trying to whisper reassurances that she wasn't going to hurt her. "I can't do that Rachel when you can barely even stand up on your own!"

"Unhand me, Quinn!"

Quinn pretty much had Berry in a bear hug now: well, if bear hugs were unreciprocated, involved restraining the recipient's arms and borderline wrestling. But Berry wasn't exactly leaving her with much of a choice!

"Look just," – she tightened her grip to try and stop Rachel's wriggling – "just stop struggling! Please! You're drunk and confused and freaking out and if I let you go right now you'll probably fall and break something," she pleaded. "I'll explain why I helped you if you just stop it!"

Rachel paused, huffed, struggled for another few seconds and then paused again.

"Berry, you're pint-sized and I'm the head cheerleader. And you're drunk. This isn't a fight you're going to win," she reasoned, biting back the slight desire to laugh at the girl's attempts to break free. "And you shouldn't even want to win it – if I let you go you'll fall on your ass!"

It took another few moments but Berry eventually stopped wriggling. This night was getting weirder by the minute: she basically had the girl in an involuntary hug! It felt weird. Weird, but also kinda nice.

Rachel had stopped freaking out for all of twenty seconds before whining, "Why are you doing this?"

Quinn bit back the urge to snap: the girl was acting like she was trying to lead her to her freaking execution instead of to safety!

The irritation twitching at Quinn disappeared altogether though when she registered the fear and distrust laced in the girl's words again. Quinn couldn't even blame her – she was drunk, confused and currently being held against her will in the arms of someone who'd spent years torturing her.

God, this was _so_ fucked up! She was going to murder Santana and Brittany when she saw them.

"Can you please just listen to me?" Quinn didn't think she'd ever made such an effort in her post-Lucy life to sound so non-threatening.

She expected the girl to start struggling again, but instead felt the slightest of nods against her chest and heard a sniffle.

"I know I'm a bitch to you and I know that I'm the last person you'll want to be around when you're drunk and upset and confused," she began, trying to ignore the unpleasant twisting in her stomach. "Last year I was drunk and insecure and…' Quinn paused, thinking through her next words carefully, "and I got taken advantage of in this same house we're in now.

"I'm a bitch and I'm selfish but…" she trailed off again, taking a deep breath as she felt tears stinging her eyes. "But you were drunk a-and I'm pretty sure you haven't been to a party since they had bouncy castles at them and I didn't want the same thing to happen to you. You were freaking out and vulnerable and no one was helping you and it wasn't right."

Quinn sniffled quietly, hoping Rachel wouldn't hear. "Look, I promise I'm not trying to kidnap you and lock you in some dwarf prison or something," she chuckled, trying to sound like a not-so-mean version of herself and less like…well, less like she was about to cry as well.

After a few seconds, Rachel seemed to relax in her arms, hiccup and then finally speak, "I accept your," – hiccup – "offer of aid."

She rolled her eyes but chuckled involuntarily. "Thanks, Berry."

"Will you let me go now?"

"No."

Rachel huffed, hiccoughed and then huffed again. "Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you to stand up straight right now."

That wasn't strictly true – now that Berry had stopped struggling, it felt kind of nice holding her like this and Quinn wasn't quite ready to let go yet. Plus, it was funny in a cute way every time the girl huffed at her.

Another huff. "How are we to get to your car if you won't let me go?" Another hiccup. "Wait, how did we even get upstairs?"

Quinn blushed and gritted her teeth. "I carried you."

"You WHAT?"

God, why couldn't the girl ever be quiet! Why was she _giggling!_

"Shut up!" she hissed, her cheeks burning. "Stop laughing. Seriously."

"You – carried – me – in – front – of – all – those – people! Oh Barbra!"

God, she was so annoying! "If you don't stop laughing I'm putting you in my boot."

It took the girl a few moments but eventually she shut up. "Oh Barbra, how embarrassing."

Quinn sighed. "It wasn't your fault."

She let Rachel pull back enough for the girl to look up at her with narrowed, bloodshot eyes. "Why are you being nice to me? Have you been possessed?"

The fact the girl was still so drunk that the question she posed was sincere and not sarcastic was the only reason Quinn chuckled instead of took offence. "Probably."

"Demon Quinn," Rachel muttered under her breath.

" _Demon_ Quinn just spent the last three hours making sure you didn't choke on your own vomit or freeze to death or get killed by some seriously pissed off Cheerios."

"No, not this Quinn. Other Quinn is demon Quinn." Did Berry seriously just roll her eyes at her?

Instead of being filled with rage, though, Quinn found herself fighting back a smile. "Yeah, well, Demon Quinn and Dwarf Berry should probably leave now. Can you stand up?"

Okay, that was a really dorky thing to say but who the hell was Berry to judge anyway?

"I resent that," the girl slurred, trying to stomp her foot but stumbling instead. Great.

"Resent away. Right, I'm gonna let you go and prop my arm under yours."

The party downstairs had calmed to a dull roar and Quinn seriously wanted to get them out of there while there were as few onlookers as possible – for her sake and Berry's.

* * *

For the first and last time ever, Quinn was actually glad she'd spent a while living at Puck's last year because it meant she knew where the back exit was.

At the back end of the Puckerman household, there was a shoe closet that also contained a side door to the house – Quinn used to use it when she'd sneak out at night to drive to the store and buy bacon because Puck's stupid mom wouldn't allow it in the house.

"Thank God," she muttered under her breath, guiding Berry down a thankfully now-empty staircase.

"What's there to be thankful for? Ow." Rachel mumbled, pouting as they headed down the stairs.

When they (finally) reached the bottom of the stairs – after a fair bit of stumbling and bickering – Quinn looked down the hall anxiously. Other than some drunk guy passed out against the wall and two people making out, the coast was clear. The party had predictably moved to the garden where Quinn guessed the remaining kegs were.

It wouldn't be that big of a deal if they were seen – it was unlikely anyone would dare question her anyway – but if she could avoid it, she would. Especially since she was about to guide Berry into a closet!

"Right," she began, stopping outside the closet door and steadying Berry by the shoulders. The girl now had a load of hair matted on her forehead, and Quinn allowed herself a small smile when the brunette blew dramatically upwards in an attempt to move it.

"There's a door that leads outside in this closet, so –

"Why can't we just go out the front door, QUINN? What are you planning?"

She was going to kill her!

"Be quiet!" she hissed, looking back down the hall to make sure Rachel hadn't attracted the attention of any partiers. "We're going the back way because it's nearer my car," she lied. What was she supposed to say? _'I don't want half the school to see you wearing my clothes and getting into my car after I just started a fight with one of my own Cheerios over you.'_ Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"I have very little confidence that you aren't about to lead me towards my untimely death." The girl paused, hiccupped and then gasped dramatically, "Or a slushie chamber!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and opened the closet door. "I preferred you when you were unconscious."

Rachel had a pout in her voice, "That's what an evil prankster _would_ prefer if they were about to lead my into their evil lair."

At that, Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "For the millionth time, Berry, I'm just trying to help you. I literally knocked one of my Cheerios into next week for you," she added at a whisper. What else could she possibly say to convince the girl?!

"Hmph."

"Hmph?"

"Yes, hmph. Strange girl."

At least that was monosyllabic. Quinn rolled her eyes and gently pushed the drunk brunette into the closet, following closely behind in case she fell again.

Apparently Rachel wasn't done with being irritating, though, because as soon as the door fell shut behind them she giggled. "How funny; we're in a closet."

Quinn could literally feel every last semblance of sanity she had ebbing away. She gritted her teeth and willed herself to remain calm – Berry probably didn't even know the hidden meaning behind what she'd just said and was just being drunk and annoying. Not that different to how she behaved sober, really. Except alcohol apparently changed the settings on her brain-to-mouth filter from 'shockingly bad' to 'dangerously severe'!

"That isn't funny," she hissed.

"I think it is. Perhaps I should go into comedy as well as Broadway. Wait, no! I could star in _humorous_ musicals!"

"You won't live to star in _anything_ if you don't be quiet," she grumbled, but kept her tone relatively light so the girl wouldn't start freaking out again.

Keeping a steady hold of a now swaying Berry in one hand and scrambling for the door handle with the other, she cursed under her breath when the damn thing seemed impossible to find. "Stop swaying," she barked at Rachel, who had started humming. Ugh! If Puck's mom had filled the lock in with cement or something she was going to –

Stumble backwards and hit her back against the wall, apparently, because only a nanosecond after she heard a squeal from Berry, the girl tripped on something (probably her own damn feet) and went flying forwards into Quinn!

She had Coach Sue and her gruesome training to thank when she somehow managed to wrap her arms around Berry's back and catch the girl before she fell down Quinn's body and landed somewhere that would be seriously awkward for both of them.

"Ouch."

"Yeah, ouch."

"Thank you for catching me. Very valiant," the girl slurred with a giggle, but something in her voice had gotten lower.

"I didn't really have…much of a choice," she murmured back distractedly, realising that unlike their bathroom embrace, the tumble had meant they were basically face-to-face. Sharing breath.

Thank God Puck's mom was too cheap to put a light in here!

"You smell nice."

It sounded innocent enough – it was Berry, after all – but she could feel the blush creeping at her cheeks anyway.

"Not possible; I had to put on one of Puck's shirts," she breathed and chuckled nervously, trying to brush the comment off. Why the hell did she feel so shy!

Rachel giggled and literally burrowed her face into the crook of Quinn's neck. Then SNIFFED! "No, I mean your skin smells nice. Like a fruit smoothie on a hot summer's day when you've spent five hours helping your dads in the garden."

Oh God oh God oh God oh God. She could literally _feel_ Berry's lips against her neck and the wetness pooling between her thighs and the worst part was she was pretty sure the girl wasn't even _trying_ to flirt!

How the hell did the girl still smell like vanilla and flowers when she'd had a shit mix thrown all over her?!

Quinn balled her fists into the Cheerios letterman – thankfully it was huge on Rachel so the girl wouldn't notice that Quinn was literally clutching onto sanity. She didn't even know why she hadn't moved them yet; it would take her all of five seconds to lift Berry off of her and get them out of the closet but she just hadn't done it yet! She _couldn't._

Wait, when did her right hand move up to start stroking Berry's hair?

"We should…we should probably go," she murmured, not moving her hand from Berry's hair or anything else. Quinn's back was still resting against the closet wall and Rachel was still resting against her with her entire body and Quinn didn't really want to change that.

"Do we have to?"

Quinn felt Rachel move from sniffing her neck and looked down to meet wide, brown orbs staring straight into her own. This was wrong. This was wrong because Rachel was drunk and probably didn't even _realise_ how she was affecting Quinn and-

Apparently _someone_ had managed to find the door, because it swung open and filled the closet with streetlight before Quinn could do anything stupid.

"Oh my fucking God!"

Santana was somehow both the worst and best person that could have found them like this. She was also a huge cold shower!

"This isn't what it looks like!" she hissed, pushing Rachel away and standing up straight but keeping hold of the girl's shoulders in case the suddenness made her fall again.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!

"What's going on, San?" Brittany skipped to Santana's side at the door, pecked her on the cheek and then looked at Quinn and Rachel. Then blinked.

"Looks like we'll have to find another spot because Q and Berry seem to have taken ours."

"Really? That's so cool! I wonder if they'd be up for a –

"We were _not_ doing whatever it is you think we were doing!" Quinn blushed, stepping forwards and glaring at the two girls stood at the door. "Berry's still drunk and she fell whilst I was trying to find –

Santana guffawed. "Q, you're in a _closet._ Well, a literal closet as well as a meta-

"Do _not_ finish that sentence!"

The Latina raised a brow in silent challenge and Quinn levelled it with a serious HBIC stare.

"Quinn smells really nice for such a mean person, although I suppose it only makes sense that someone so beautiful would smell nice too."

They all turned to stare at Rachel, who seemed entirely unbothered by the whole situation.

Santana was the first to speak; Quinn was still to busy blanching at Rachel. "Oh, she _does,_ does she?"

"Berry, please just be quie-

"Calm down, QUINN!" She winced at the brunette's sudden loudness shooting straight into her ear. "Our interactions have been entirely innocent. Well, this ti-

"Shut up!" she hissed, knowing exactly where the girl was going. Quinn turned back to Santana; "I was trying to sneak Berry out the back door so we'd attract as little attention as possible." She motioned to the girl next to her with an up-and-down motion of her arm, "and now I'm taking her home." She left the detail of 'home' ambiguous, because there was no way in hell Santana was going to find out Berry was staying over at hers. "Now get out of my way."

Brittany smiled and patted Quinn on the arm. Usually she wouldn't mind because it was Brittany but right now it just filled her with icy rage. "That's super nice of you, Quinn. Santana took me home after we were first in a closet together too."

"Quinn and I could never be like you and Santana, Brittany." Rachel suddenly sounded sombre considering her inebriated state. It made Quinn's mind race and heart drop so much that she wasn't even bothered about what Brittany had said to cause it. What did Berry even mean?

She didn't have to wait long for the girl to clarify; "Quinn is claustrophobic, so this is unfortunately a one-time thing."

Quinn felt parts of her body relax that she didn't even realised she'd clenched.

Santana looked between them and obviously sensed a change in atmosphere. "I'm bored and wanna have sex," she said, stepping aside and tugging Brittany with her. "Go return your damsel or whatever, Q."

She'd never felt so grateful for Berry's brattiness as she did when the girl huffed, stormed out of the door and threw an 'I am _no_ damsel' over her shoulder

"Good luck," Santana scoffed, but Quinn barely heard her as she jogged after Berry. It was kind of embarrassing having her two best friends watching her run after _Rachel Berry,_ but she didn't want to be around them right now anyway.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. More soon.


	10. You Can't Hurry Love

A/N: Here's the next chapter. This one is named after The Supremes' 'You Can't Hurry Love' - both for the title and a fun moment that happens in this chapter :) . Hope you enjoy and, as always, thanks for the reviews.

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You Can't Hurry Love

Rachel stormed down the narrow passageway that ran along the side of the Puckerman house – she was _no_ damsel in distress, thank you very much!

She stopped abruptly, however, when she reached its end and realised she had no idea where to go from there because she had no idea where Quinn's car was. It didn't exactly help that everything was still spinning and the streetlights illuminating the house's front garden felt more like floodlights being shone directly into her brain than anything useful!

She didn't have to suffer for long, though, because her eyesight was plunged into darkness by some mysterious figure tackling her to the ground!

"GET OFF OF ME! I HAVE A RAPE WHISTLE!"

Rachel tried to wriggle out from under her assailant but it was no use – they were too heavy and her limbs just wouldn't coordinate! Damn alcohol for compromising her motor functions when she needed them the most!

"Ow! Berry, what the hell?"

Wait, _Quinn?_ That would at least explain why her attacker smelt so nice.

"Why are you on top of me?"

Was that the girl above her _growling?_ Maybe she _had_ been possessed after all!

"Because I was trying to catch up with you and you just stopped! _I am not on top of you on purpose!"_

The blonde's anger really didn't seem all that reasonable when _she_ was the one that ran into her.

"I hardly see how this is my fault," she huffed, craning her neck so that her voice was no longer muffled by the grass she'd just been ploughed into!

"I was running right behind you! You don't just stop like that!"

"I thought cheerleaders were meant to be agile."

All of a sudden, the weight that had been resting on top of her disappeared. Rachel pouted in silent disappointment; although not overly comfortable, it felt quite nice to feel Quinn's entire body against hers. Not as nice as it had felt in that closet, though!

 _Get your mind out of the proverbial gutter, Rachel!_

"I'm going to let that slide because you're drunk," she heard the girl standing above her grit out. Let _what_ slide? It was true!

Rachel pushed herself up on her hands: the fall itself hadn't hurt, but trying to mobilise her limbs enough to get up did. Ugh, why were those damn streetlights so bright!

"Ow. Everything hurts. I feel like I'm staring the Belasco Theatre's lighting board straight in the face."

She heard a scoff. "Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't have the coordination of a blind dwarf on roller-skates and thought it would be a good idea to drink half of Puckerman's liquor cabinet then you wouldn't be feeling like shit. Also, stop making everything about Broadway."

Now Quinn was just being spiteful! Turning over so that she could sit up and finally look at her, Rachel grinned; "For someone that doesn't care for Broadway, it seems suspicious that you know the Belasco is a Broadway theatre."

It didn't really – the Belasco was perhaps the most famous Broadway venue – but it was the only comeback she could think of.

"I was taken there when I was a kid."

Wow – the blonde looked _really_ annoyed. And kind of flustered. Huh. Quinn was standing above her, arms crossed and foot tapping anxiously. For some reason unbeknownst to Rachel, the girl kept looking over her shoulder towards the house.

"Quinn, are you blushing?"

"What? No. Get up."

"It looks like you're blushing." Rachel didn't think she'd ever seen even a tint of red on those perfect, pale cheeks before. It was really quite endearing.

"I'm not blushing, Berry! I'm just pissed off because you sent us both flying to the ground," she snapped. Gosh, why was Quinn always so grumpy? Blushing isn't that big of a deal! It was honestly quite nice to see some colour in those pale cheeks anyway. But if the blonde wanted to be all grumpy and difficult, then fine!

"Whatever."

"Did you just say _whatever_?"

"Did the fall impair your hearing, Quinn?"

Okay, so that was perhaps a bit risky when Quinn was obviously so grouchy but right now she didn't _care_ what was risky. It was honestly quite satisfying to see the blonde grit her teeth in blatant irritation: Rachel could somewhat see the appeal in why Quinn was such a bitch all the time.

"Okay, fun's over. Get up."

"We aren't in school right now, QUINN. You can't just boss me around." To emphasise her point, she crossed her arms and legs. Hah – that would show her!

Quinn narrowed her eyes; Rachel countered it with a bright, smug smile.

"Berry, do as you're told for once!"

"I resent being commanded around! This is America, Quinn." Rachel shrugged, "it seems that we're at an impasse."

She watched with keen amusement (and perhaps a little trepidation) as Quinn took a step forwards and threw an icy glare at her. Usually that would be enough to get Rachel to fall in line with whatever the girl was barking at her, but right now it all just seemed quite funny.

"Berry, I swear to Go-

"Okay, okay! Calm down, QUINN!" The hazel eyes glaring into her own were starting to turn a little red, so a compromise seemed reasonable. She didn't particularly want to end the night in a shallow grave, regardless of how amusing pushing the blonde's buttons seemed to be. "I will acquiesce."

That seemed to simmer the blonde down some. "Go on, then," Quinn grumbled with an impatient flick of her wrist.

"I think I need a hand."

Rachel threw Quinn a megawatt smile: she knew she was seriously testing her luck (and the blonde's _clearly_ precarious patience), but she was drunk and wanted contact with Quinn and her soft hands again and…screw it!

Quinn chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and Rachel was half-expecting the hand the blonde extended to hit her in the face, but it didn't. Wow!

"Fine."

Rachel beamed (inside and out!) and took the blonde's outstretched hand. Despite the seemingly pained look on Quinn's face, she wasn't tugged harshly to her feet like she expected. Instead, the taller girl held her hand firmly but softly and even made the effort to use her other arm to support Rachel as she stood up!

Was it possible to see fireworks just because someone has _literally_ lifted you off the ground?

"Thank you, Quinn…" she trailed off, distracted by being brought up to eye-level with the other girl, and _Barbra_ were those eyes molten with…well, something other than pure annoyance for once!

She expected a sarcastic retort from the other girl, but instead Quinn just…looked at her. There was something brimming in those eyes that she couldn't quite place, but whatever it was seemed tender, and Rachel couldn't look away. She was also well aware that Quinn's hand was still resting on her shoulder and that they hadn't let go of each other's hands yet, but she didn't want to point that out right now. Or ever!

Rachel just wanted to stay like this for as long as possible; any onlooker would probably look at the way they were stood – hands entwined, sharing breath – and think they were a couple.

Perhaps Quinn came to that same realisation, because only a matter of seconds later she abruptly pulled away. "We need to go; it's cold outside."

It wasn't, but even in her inebriated state Rachel knew not to dispute it.

They walked down the road in silence – a silence that was killing Rachel for all of the ten seconds she allowed it to last.

"You're a very good lifter-upper." She couldn't help herself!

"What?"

"Lifter-upper. You're good at lifting people up. Five stars!"

Quinn's scoff _really_ didn't seem necessary. "Thanks."

Rachel ignored the blatant sarcasm. "You're very welcome."

Although Quinn didn't make an effort to continue their conversation, Rachel still felt quite satisfied: it almost felt like they were having 'banter' of sorts, which she always hoped but honestly never thought she'd have with Quinn Fabray. It was probably just the alcohol causing misplaced confidence, but she'd take it as long as it lasted.

Rachel was painfully aware of the nature of her relationship with Quinn, but tonight seemed to exist beyond the realms of high school normality and she was happy to live in that blissful bubble until it popped.

* * *

Quinn's patience – and sanity – was seriously wearing thin now. Every time she thought she had a grip on the whole situation, the universe threw her another curveball. How the hell had she come so close to kissing Rachel in a closet and then almost repeating the mistake five minutes later in the middle of someone's front garden during a freaking house party!

It didn't exactly help that Berry couldn't decide what kind of drunk she wanted to be: inconsolable, angry or pedantic as hell! The only consistency the girl seemed to have was having literally no boundaries whatsoever and being a total pain in the ass!

The only thing Berry made easy for her was getting in the car without complaint.

Once she'd shut the passenger door for Rachel (and the girl thanked her for being _chivalrous)_ Quinn got into the driver's side, put her seatbelt on and started the engine. Then took a deep, calming breath. Then risked a glance at Berry.

Quinn wasn't surprised when she saw the girl rifling through her CD collection.

"Put your seatbelt on."

" _You_ put _your_ seatbelt on."

"My seatbelt is already on, Berry," she gritted out.

"Oh."

Quinn waited until she heard a 'click' and then pulled away, not without a quick backwards glance to check that no partygoers had seen Rachel Berry get into her car. Act of kindness and concern for Berry aside she was still Quinn Fabray and did _not_ need the whole school talking about her more than they already would be.

"The Supremes."

What was Berry…? Oh – she'd forgotten to turn her stereo off before she started driving.

"Yep."

"Interesting."

What the hell was that supposed to mean! Quinn bristled, "What, did you expect top forty? Not everyone is such a cliché, you know."

Okay, so she didn't really know why she felt the need to defend her music taste to a drunken Rachel Berry but whatever.

She kept her eyes resolutely focused on the road but she heard Berry chuckle. "No, Quinn; I know that you have an old-fashioned music taste despite what you might like our more popular peers to think."

Well, _that_ peaked her interest. "How do you know about my music taste?"

Rachel's response was almost too quick; "From what you've performed in Glee." Quick, but Quinn didn't really know how to challenge the girl on it.

Rachel, predictably without asking permission, started flicking through the songs on the CD. "I was simply surprised to find that you," – hiccough – "have a CD in your car at all."

Quinn wasn't sure she even wanted the answer, but she asked anyway: "Why not?"

"You just don't strike me as the type to listen to music in your car; you seem more like an angry-yet-focused, no-nonsense driver type."

Yeah, that wasn't really an answer that Quinn had wanted to hear. It shouldn't even matter what Berry thought, but it did. It always did, whether Quinn wanted to admit it to herself or not.

She glanced at Rachel again, who seemed completely content just humming along to the music. Ugh!

"You know, I'm not a soulless demon with no capacity for fun."

Okay, why the hell did Berry just _scoff?_

"Hah! I mean aside from taking pleasure out of torturing me, Quinn."

Quinn couldn't help but laugh, even if it stung a little that Rachel thought that of her. Still, the girl's tone was light and it was nice talking to her with a little lightness for once. Berry probably wouldn't remember much of it anyway, even if she did seem to be sobering up a little.

Plus, the girl looked seriously cute in her Cheerios letterman and it was hard to maintain a stony indifference when she kept having to look at it every few seconds!

"Careful, Berry – you might actually hurt my feelings."

"All I mean, Quinn, is that you're a very serious person. You need to let loose a little sometimes!" the girl sang, doing a weird bouncy dance in her seat. God, she was _such_ a dork!

"Um, pot-kettle, Berry. You do realise that you're one of the most intense, serious people I've ever met right? You probably have higher stress levels than Obama." She couldn't believe that _Rachel Berry_ was telling her that she never had any fun and to 'let loose'.

Rachel seemed to chew on that for a moment. "Yes, but you always seem so serious. You're always marching around the school glaring and being angry or withdrawn. You only ever seem to let go of that in Glee Club and even then it's clear that you're restraining yourself."

Quinn tightened her grip on the steering wheel: Rachel, like always, saw her more than anyone else ever did.

She needed to steer the conversation away from her own mental state before she steered them over a bridge. "Stalker much, Berry."

"Hah! Says the girl that goes out of her way with the determination of a bloodhound to find me multiple times a day just to throw some juvenile insult!"

Berry threw her a playful grin, which Quinn returned with a quirked brow and dry chuckle. "Touché."

Quinn quickly looked back to the road when she held Rachel's gaze for just a little too long; there was no way she was going to crash the car and have her dead, mangled body found alongside Rachel Berry's just because she was staring into the girl's eyes for too long!

Berry, being drunk and, well, _Berry,_ seemed completely obvious to the change in atmosphere. "You should prove it."

"Prove what?"

"That you can be fun and carefree."

"I don't need to prove anything."

"That's exactly what a grouch would say." She heard Rachel laugh as if she'd somehow proven her stupid point.

"How am I meant to _prove it_ , anyway?" she asked with a quirked brow, laughing when she took her hands off the wheel for a moment to make air quotes and Rachel gasped.

"Road safety, Quinn!"

"Answer the question, Rachel!"

Okay, so she was having banter with Rachel Berry. So what? No one else was here anyway and she could do whatever she damn liked.

"Sing with me."

"What?"

"Sing with me." Berry shot her a bright smile and then skipped to the next song. "If you're so fun and easy-going then sing with me."

Quinn shook her head, "No way." She looked back to the road and hoped that Berry wouldn't notice the blush now creeping up her cheeks.

"Singing in the car is the very definition of fun! If you want to prove to me that you're not a soulless monster then you'll sing along with me."

"Berry…"

Rachel punched her shoulder playfully: "Consider it practice for duet week!"

She couldn't believe she was even considering this.

"I am not-

It was too late. The girl had already stopped listening to her and was singing along – megawatt beam in place – to the first verse of 'You Can't Hurry Love'.

 _I need love, love to ease my mind_

 _I need to find, find someone to call mine_

Quinn turned to Rachel and couldn't help but laugh at what she saw: the girl was dancing goofily in her seat along with the beat and was using Quinn's ice scraper as a microphone. Where did she even find that?!

"Come on, Quinn!" the girl sang, poking her in the shoulder with the edge of the ice scraper.

Despite shaking her head, Quinn couldn't keep the smile off her face. Fuck it! Turning the music up, she starting hitting the top of the steering wheel along with the drum beat and joined in.

 _But mama said you can't hurry love_

 _No you just have to wait_

 _She said love don't come easy_

 _It's a game of give and take_

 _You gotta trust, give it time_

 _No matter how long it takes_

Maybe she was drunk off Berry's drunkenness. Yeah, that's what she'd blame it on. The girl's good mood and goofy dancing was infectious!

They both turned to look at each other, manic grins in place as they sang the next part dramatically.

 _But how many heartaches must I stand_

Quinn cackled when Rachel threw out her arms dramatically at this part. She could imagine the brunette doing this alone in her own car and the picture made Quinn's chest feel warm.

 _Before I find a love to let me live again_

 _Right now the only thing that keeps me hanging on_

 _When I feel my strength, yeah, it's almost gone_

 _I remember mama said_

They sang the next chorus together even louder than they had the first, and Quinn did her best to dance within the confines of being the driver. Still, being the driver didn't stop her from doing body rolls along with the music and she could _feel_ Rachel's eyes on her.

It felt pretty great, actually.

The song conveniently came to an end as she pulled into her driveway, but she couldn't get her grin to go along with it. She'd never sung in the car with anyone before – let alone like that – and it made her feel lightness all over her body.

It seemed to have the same effect on Berry as well, because as soon as the car pulled to a stop she felt a pair of warm, soft lips peck her cheek.

Quinn honestly felt as drunk as Rachel. Instead of the small peck snapping her back to reality, it just made her feel even more lightheaded and _buzzed._

"See, that was fun!"

Rachel was looking at her with this elated, silly grin that made her look like a puppy or something. You know, a puppy that Quinn wanted to lean over and kiss until neither of them could even _breathe_ anymore.

Quinn flicked her eyes over to the far left window at the top floor of her house: the light was off which meant her mom would be asleep.

"Yeah, it was," she breathed, looking back to Rachel and finding herself lost in wide brown orbs not for the first time tonight. It seemed like the brunette was having the same issue because the excitement swirling in the pair of eyes staring into her own started to glisten with something else that Quinn couldn't quite place.

The temptation was there. Rachel was there, in her car. No one awake was around for miles. They were pretty safe and secluded in the car. She'd already broken enough rules tonight anyway – what did one more matter? A peck on the lips wouldn't hurt; people did it platonically all the time...

She could explain it away tomorrow, she thought, as she closed her eyes and leaned in to close the distance between them.

Her eyes quickly snapped open, though, when the contact she was craving so _freaking_ badly never came and she heard the passenger door slam shut. Berry was storming away from her car!

Quinn quickly pulled back, unbuckled her seatbelt and punched the steering wheel. "Fuck."

What the hell!

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Hope you enjoyed. As always, reviews including constructive criticism very welcome.


	11. Never Let Me Go

This chapter is named after and based on the song 'Never Let Me Go' by Florence and the Machine. Hope you enjoy and thank you for all the reviews.

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Never Let Me Go

Rachel knew what Quinn was about to do. Something dangerous was swirling in those striking hazel eyes and as much as she wanted it she _couldn't_. If they got caught up in the moment again, Rachel would be living with the ramifications of that moment for weeks to come and Quinn would go back to pretending like nothing had even happened.

Still quite drunk and exhilarated from their little sing-along though she may be, she wasn't so desperate for a kiss with Quinn that she was going to fall into whatever trap the blonde was setting, intentionally or not.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that gave her the confidence to get out of Quinn's car and head towards the house.

"Hey, Rachel! Where are you going? Berry!"

She could hear the blonde jogging to catch up with her. Did Quinn just call her _Rachel?_ Then again, she could vaguely remember the girl calling her that earlier in the night…

"Hey! What's your problem?" As Rachel reached the (rather over-the-top but admittedly stunning) entrance to the Fabray house, she was turned around by a strong grasp pulling at her arm. It was a familiar feeling.

Rachel really didn't want to look at Quinn right now – she barely had any resolve left as it was! – but she wasn't really left with much of a choice: the blonde was stood so close to her that there wasn't anywhere else to look and the only thing behind her was the door into the house.

Oh, Barbra!

"It was getting cold in the car," she lied, trying to keep her eyes focused somewhere over Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn took a small step closer so that their bodies were now literally pressed together – oh _God –_ and she heard the taller girl scoff. "I had the heat on and you're wearing my letterman."

Rachel registered the warm, soft fabric covering her bare arms and fought the urge to smile – she was wearing _Quinn Fabray's_ jacket. Like when she used to wear Finn's, except it smelt nicer and was just the right amount of 'too big' and Quinn obviously used a superior fabric softener…

She snapped out of her trance when felt Quinn shift her weight slightly.

"I'm a…cold…person?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

Quinn's words rang through her ears and then ricocheted around her entire body. The blonde was speaking at barely a whisper and her voice actually sounded…soft.

It just made Rachel want to give in to whatever this was which is exactly why she _couldn't_ look at her!

"I can."

"Then look at me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Mind your own business."

She expected the gentleness in Quinn's voice to be quickly replaced by an icy wrath at that, but instead she heard a quiet chuckle. "I think it is my business when you're stood at my front door but can't even look at me."

Ugh! She did not have the reasoning skills right now to deal with this! If she looked at Quinn then the girl would likely see that Rachel was losing in whatever game she's playing, but then if she didn't look then that showed weakness!

"I can't," she heard herself mumble. She winced – Quinn would surely hear the wobble of her resolve in her voice.

Parallels were a funny thing, Rachel mused. Only five days ago they were in a similar position: Rachel, her back against an immovable object and Quinn, blocking any chance of escape and urging Rachel to look at her. Physically it must look entirely the same as it had in the halls of McKinley on Monday, but everything else about it was different.

Rachel didn't feel long, thin fingers grasp at her chin and force her to meet a cold, hazel gaze. Instead, Rachel looked slowly upwards on her own accord, and was met with eyes swirling with fire. The flames she saw there seemed to have a lot thrown into them.

"I don't understand what's going on," Rachel heard herself whisper, so close to Quinn that she was sure she if she leaned in even a fraction of an inch then their lips would touch.

She felt cold breath blow against her burning cheeks. "Neither do I."

It was Quinn that eventually closed that miniscule gap between them but it was Rachel that wrapped an arm around the blonde's neck in return. Whatever resolve she tried to put up was hopeless: what did the consequences matter if the reward was this?

The kiss wasn't harsh or forceful like the last time: instead, Quinn's lips only brushed along hers before fully pressing them lightly together, and Rachel felt a hand snake leisurely up her side until it reached her cheek.

Rachel always liked Quinn's hair the best when it was released from that constricting ponytail, but never in her life was she so glad the blonde had her hair down as she was today. A thrill shot through her body when she started running her hands through said hair and Quinn nipped at her bottom lip in return.

When her back finally closed that tiny distance and met with the door, Rachel moaned quietly at the feel of Quinn's entire body pressed against her own. How was it even possible to feel this much just from kissing someone? She'd been in positions similar to this with Finn, Puck, and Jesse…and although some of those occasions were pleasant, they were nothing like this!

Quinn's body was just so perfect – they fit together perfectly – that it made Rachel's entire body feel alight. It made her feel _excited,_ which she'd never necessarily felt before when kissing someone until Quinn. She'd been excited emotionally to kiss other people before, but never physically – never with her whole body.

They were so entirely wrapped up in each other that Rachel couldn't even tell whose hands were whose and whose legs were where – all she knew was that she just wanted to melt into the other girl and all she could think was _'never let me go!'_

But it still wasn't enough. Rachel tilted her head and pressed a little harder against Quinn's lips, and Quinn returned the gesture by pushing Rachel further into the door and subsequently pushing their bodies impossibly closer together.

Now both of the blonde's hands had travelled to cup her cheeks delicately, but the lightness of the touch contradicted its intention as Rachel found herself pulled in even deeper.

It was only when she felt a small tongue teasing at her lips that she snapped herself out of the trance.

* * *

Quinn had never _ever_ had someone turn down a kiss from her before, and she wasn't sure if she should be relieved or annoyed. Her brain was screaming _'relieved!'_ , but literally everything else was screaming the exact opposite and now she had an uncomfortable, pained feeling in her stomach and it was all stupid Berry's fault!

"What is it?" she half-whispered, half-whined, forehead resting against Rachel's when the brunette pulled away from the kiss.

Quinn felt the girl try to pull away completely so she resisted by firming up her grip on Rachel's cheeks. It probably seemed desperate, but she didn't care. She _was_ desperate.

"I-I…I just can't do this."

"But we were just doing it."

Quinn felt herself blush when she realised the implication of her own words.

"Quinn…" She exhaled in quiet relief when she felt Rachel's hands cover her own that were still cupping burning cheeks. "Quinn, can we please just go inside?"

Yeah, the relief was short-lived because turns out Rachel only placed her tiny hands over her own to pry them off.

Why couldn't she just have this one thing? This one damn moment? Why did God hate her so much? Pre-marital pregnancy, repressed lesbianism and general bitchiness aside, couldn't God just give her a freaking break?!

Okay, so maybe pleading to God to help her carry on a make-out session with another girl wasn't the best way forward, but nothing else was working so screw it!

"Quinn, please."

Rachel, who was now looking at her with wide doe eyes that looked close to tears, snapped her out of her internal meltdown. Crap!

Quinn took a few steps back, cast her eyes away from Rachel and waited until she saw the girl move away from the door in her peripheral. Why did Rachel want to stop? She seemed to be enjoying it enough a few moments ago! And how the hell was she going to explain _this_ away when it brought their kiss count up to two in one week?

God, she felt like a _total_ creeper!

Freaking out but forcing herself not to let it show, Quinn dug her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door. It didn't even occur to her until Berry was already stepping into her house how nervous she was for the other girl to see it.

She'd never actually been inside the Berry home, but she'd seen it from the outside and you can practically _feel_ the warmth exuding from the house even from across the street. There was little doubt in Quinn's mind that although Rachel's house was smaller in size, it would hold within it a hell of a lot more substance than the Fabray's empty mansion.

Since Quinn moved back in, she and her mom had made some effort to make the house feel more like a home and less like a showroom, but that wasn't the easiest thing to do when their relationship was still broken. Mending, but broken.

Quinn wondered just how much more broken it could get as she quietly closed the door behind herself and Rachel.

"My mom is asleep upstairs," she mumbled, still feeling embarrassed and confused and angry and hurt, "so don't be too loud. She's a pretty heavy sleeper but until we're in my room we should probably whisper."

It only seemed to dawn on them both, in that exact moment, that they would be going to Quinn's room. Alone. In a bedroom. With a bed.

Rachel looked kind of scared but Quinn figured the girl was probably self-conscious and frightened over sharing a room with her. Quinn was scared too, but for entirely different reasons.

"Quinn, I –

"I'm going to get you a glass of water," she cut the girl off, not wanting to hear whatever it was Berry had to say. She _couldn't_ hear it right now. "It'll help with the…being drunk."

Oh, great, now she was sounding like some inarticulate, nervous teenage boy or something!

"I don't feel that drunk anymo-

"Just wait there for a sec."

Quinn seriously needed a minute. She needed a minute to not be in the same room as Rachel and to get her damn head together and stop being such a freaking moron. And to kick something!

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, Quinn cast her eyes to a note left on the kitchen table.

 _Waited up for a while but up early tomorrow for meeting with lawyer. Hope you had a good night Quinnie._

 _Mom x_

Quinn's eyes lingered on the note for a moment. She knew what her mom was doing: in previous years she'd be bombarded with anxious texts asking for her whereabouts, when she'd be home, etc. Now Judy wanted to give Quinn the illusion that she had control over her own life.

She picked up the note and put it in the bin. At least she could relax knowing her mom wouldn't be hovering around the house all day tomorrow.

Walking back through the house and into the hall, Quinn handed the glass to Rachel without comment. Or eye contact.

' _How bad would it be if I just told her to leave?'_

' _Pretty bad! It's like 3am and dark and her house is miles away and she's still pretty drunk!'_

' _Someone would help her'_

' _You know that isn't true'_

Quinn gritted her teeth and made a 'follow me' motion, still refusing to look at Rachel, then headed up the stairs.

' _Just put her in a spare room – it's not like this house is lacking in them'_

' _Yeah and risk mom walking in and finding her! NO THANKS'_

She could see from her peripheral that Rachel was about to head up another flight of stairs. Like most guests she'd ever had, Rachel was paying more attention to the house and all its décor than she was to Quinn. "My room is on the first floor."

"Oh."

Quinn headed down the first floor hallway as soon as she heard feet scamper down the couple of stairs the girl must have already climbed.

Even though Quinn had personally seen to it that every picture that so much as nodded towards Lucy's existence was _literally_ burnt, she still felt anxious having Rachel walk down a hall full of void family photos. The girl was probably studying each and every picture with obsessive detail or whatever and it made Quinn feel uncomfortable.

"My room's here," she said, opening the door and pointing unenthusiastically. Why the hell couldn't she shake this damn self-consciousness?!

God, is this what regular girls feel like?

"It's very…big."

Quinn, still not looking at the girl now scrutinising her room, stood awkwardly by her dresser and laughed humourlessly. "And lacking substance."

Shut up shut up shut up! What did her stupid mouth think it was, 'make yourself vulnerable to Rachel freaking Berry as much as you possibly can day'?!

She expected something kind and typically Rachel in response, but what she got instead surprised and pissed her off enough to finally look at her again: "Puck specifically told me that you wouldn't be at the party."

"Oh, I'm sorry, was my presence there a problem for you?" She couldn't believe her!

Rachel was perched nervously at the very edge of her bed, and Quinn noticed that her once-ecstatic demeanour had changed into something much more recognisable to Quinn: self-consciousness. Yeah, so maybe it was pathologically evil that that made her feel somewhat relieved, but whatever.

"N-No, no, it's not that," Rachel rushed, running her hands nervously up and down her legs.

Quinn quirked a brow, feeling her power coming back to her as Rachel's so obviously faltered. Yeah, evil.

"Then what is it?"

"Is this all a prank?"

Um, what?

Quinn found herself stepping away from the dresser and slowly towards the bed. "Is what a prank?"

Why couldn't Rachel look at her _again?_ Why did she look like she was about to burst into tears or run for the hills or both? _Why could the mood between them not stay consistent for five freaking minutes?!_

"This whole thing. The kiss last week and the kiss again today. Me being at the party which makes no sense because I never get invited _anywhere_ and all of a sudden I'm invited to _Puck's_ and reassured that you won't be there but you are," – Quinn made a silent note of that - who the hell told Berry she wouldn't be there and _why?! "_ and then all of a sudden I'm assaulted by an icy beverage and you of all people come to my rescue and then you kiss me again and Santana is saying all these strange things and now I'm at your house and a-and I just… I can't handle whatever this is, Quinn!"

With every nervously rambled word, Quinn felt her stomach drop further and further. The girl sat in front of her looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown – hands, voice, legs shaking. It made Quinn feel sick.

' _Does she seriously think I'm so evil that I'd plan something this elaborate to…to what?'_

"Wait, you…you think this is all some prank? The kiss, the party, the drink, you being here…?" she said quietly, managing to keep her voice even despite how she felt.

"Yes!" the girl cried, dragging a shaking hand over her face and through her hair.

' _Well, there's your answer. Are you really surprised?'_

How Quinn didn't vomit right then she had no idea. "But…why? I-I mean, I know I'm a bitch but what would be the point? It doesn't make any sense."

Rachel's gaze shot up and Quinn was met full force with wide brown orbs pooling with unshed tears. The brunette was imploding. "I don't know, Quinn!" the girl shouted, throwing her arms out. "To humiliate me! To get revenge on me for stealing Finn! To make me fall for you so that the whole school can laugh at Rachel Berry: the Glee Club loser with two gay dads that's now gay herself!"

Quinn felt her throat constrict. "A-Are you? Gay, I mean."

She knew that was the wrong thing to focus on right now but she couldn't help it!

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Okay, apparently that was the wrong thing to say as well because now Rachel was pretty much hyperventilating. Shit!

Quinn rushed forwards to sit on the bed beside Rachel – how the hell do you deal with someone having a panic attack?! – but the brunette started pushing her away as soon as she got within arm's length.

"I knew it. I knew it. Oh, Barbra, I'm such a fool!"

She seriously had no idea what the hell to do since she barely even knew what this was all about! All she knew was she needed Rachel to stop crying and _talking_ about this because Quinn's head felt like it was going to explode.

"Knew what?"

"That this was all some prank!"

"All I did was ask you if you're ga-

"I'M NOT GAY!"

Quinn winced, both because she was worried the sheer volume of Rachel's scream might wake her mom up but mostly because those three words crushed whatever weird, twisted hope she had for a whole ten seconds.

"Okay, okay," she rushed, even though she felt anything but. She just needed Rachel to stop freaking out! "Look, I don't-

"I'm going to need to transfer schools. I can't keep dealing with this, Quinn! I already-

"It wasn't a prank."

"What?"

WHAT?

Quinn froze at the same time Rachel did and they stared at each other blankly.

"I said it wasn't a prank."

Quinn seriously thought she was going to throw up or pass out or just die on the spot but all she knew was she needed Rachel to stop freaking out and sobbing like that and talking about moving schools and-

"Then what was it?" she heard the girl sniffle between sobs, watery brown eyes now staring at her untrustingly.

Quinn gulped down what felt like a throat full of vomit and tried to grasp at something – anything to calm Rachel down and get some grip of what the hell was going on without so much as _hinting_ at the truth.

"It doesn't matter. Just know that it wasn't a prank, okay? I-I know I'm a bitch to you and you have no reason to trust me but _come on_. I t-told you that I didn't want you to get taken advantage of like I was –

"That doesn't explain the kiss!"

Quinn felt white-hot panic shoot up her entire body. "It doesn't matter, but it wasn't a prank. Nothing about tonight will leave this room." Quinn would probably personally murder an entire continent of fucking penguins to make sure nothing about this night left the room, so for once she wasn't even lying!

"It matters to me."

"Just forget it, Rachel!"

"I'm not you; I can't just forget everything and -

"Look, I spend all my time with Santana and Brittany and I just…I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, okay? I was just curious about what it would feel like to kiss a girl and we were alone and you're an easy target and I knew that I'd be able to keep you quiet so I chose you. I'm sorry if it meant something to you or whatever. Earlier I just got caught up in the moment."

Okay, that was one hell of a compromise on Quinn's part and pretty much the nicest way she was willing to deal with this whole situation so why the hell was Rachel getting up from the bed and marching towards her bedroom door?

"Where are you going?" Quinn was already on her feet and following after the retreating brunette.

"Home!"

Okay, Rachel wasn't just crying anymore – she was _weeping. Crap_!

"You can't just go home! It's the middle of the night and you're drunk!"

"I've sobered up."

If she'd really sobered up, Rachel would have reached the bedroom door by now. Quinn was seriously glad that she hadn't.

"Not enough and your house is miles away!"

"Leave me alone, Quinn!"

"No! Why are you so upset?"

"Mind your own business!"

That's it; she was letting Berry keep a lead on her because she hoped the girl would calm down if she gave her some physical space (and she also didn't want her to think she was trying to kidnap her or something), but the girl was getting too close to the door for Quinn's liking.

"Get out of my way, Quinn," Rachel cried when Quinn rushed ahead of her and blocked the door.

"No. Why are you so upset?"

It made no sense! She'd told Berry it wasn't a prank so what were all the tears about? Sure, the girl said that the kiss had meant something but…well, it wasn't like Rachel was in love with her or anything! She'd literally just spent the last year chasing after Finn like some sad, pathetic puppy so why was she getting so het up over some stupid kisses that never should have happened! Was Berry seriously such a romantic that every kiss, whether she wanted it or not, needed to be from some place of undying love or something?

If _anyone_ should be crying right now, Quinn was pretty sure it should be herself! She was doomed to spend a life alone in Lima while Rachel marries some dumb 'leading man material' loser and talks on reality TV about that time she 'experimented' with some 'evil cheerleader' and-

"Because! I've never kissed _anyone_ like that before! Finn, Noah, Jesse – _none_ of them felt like that and to you it's simply either some conniving prank at worst or some meaningless experiment at best!"

Quinn felt her chest clench. Rachel's eyes were overflowing with sincerity and _pain_ and sadness and _longing_ and-

"And I can't believe that every time I look at someone that thinks I'm ugly and mannish and annoying and a freak and simply some expendable toy, all I want to do is ask her how her day went then kiss her!"

Rachel let out those final two words in a shouted yet strangled sob. Quinn could feel her heart seeping to the cool wooden floor and burning at the frantic brunette's feet. She needed Rachel to know she was everything _but_ all that. It shouldn't even shock her that Rachel thought those things: it should come as no surprise whatsoever and should, really, fill Quinn with a deep sense of personal, malicious satisfaction at finally breaking that unwavering, taking-the-high-ground indifference that Rachel always fought Quinn's rage with.

Instead Quinn felt like someone had plunged a knife into an ice bucket then stuck it into her stomach.

Rachel was throwing feeling back at her, not some indignant rant about the pointlessness of Quinn's mean nicknames or the sharpness of her singing or whatever other sunny, optimistic response the girl would usually give to all her bullshit.

"Now get out of my way! I'd rather freeze to death than stay here and humiliate myself for another minute," the girl sobbed, trying to barge an immobile Quinn out the way of the door.

She might as well be made of stone.

Maybe it was the way Rachel was breathing so heavily only inches from her face. Maybe it was the way Rachel wearing her Cheerios letterman made her feel all excited and warm inside. Maybe it was the way her gym t-shirt was stuck to the girl's skin and because of that Quinn could see the outline of Rachel's breasts. Maybe it was the way she looked seriously sexy with wet hair. Maybe it was the fact that Rachel just said something – those impossible, forbidden words – that meant that maybe, just maybe, she felt even a little of what Quinn felt for her. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes or inconsolable sadness in them that made Quinn just need to make it stop: to make it better.

Maybe it was the sheer mistake of it all.

Whatever the reason, Quinn found herself closing the distance between them at the very same time Rachel tried to get past.

She held the girl's cheeks in her hands – even more delicately than she had outside – and tried to convey everything she couldn't say out loud through her eyes. She wasn't sure how long her lips took to follow suit.

"Don't leave," she heard herself whisper, only after placing feather-light kisses on either side of the cheeks she was cradling.

The rest already seemed to come naturally.

It wasn't bruising or forceful or rushed like their last kisses were; instead, Quinn brushed her thumb along the soft skin her hands were blessed to be finding refuge on when she brushed her lips against the brunette's.

Quinn knew it was wrong: Rachel was upset and still nowhere near sober and doing this again wasn't a good idea for either of them. She knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop her from reaching down to lift the girl's thighs and wrap them around her middle as soon as she felt Rachel tentatively kiss back. It was wrong but it felt so fucking good.

At least kissing was silent: she couldn't incriminate herself by saying something irreversible aloud. That's what she'd tell herself, anyway.

Although Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck as soon as she lifted the smaller girl off the ground, Quinn could feel that she was still being hesitant. It was clear Rachel still wasn't sure just how much Quinn meant this – just how much it wasn't some _meaningless experiment_.

"It isn't some experiment," she whispered breathlessly between kisses, "I lied."

Rachel pulled back so that their foreheads and noses were touching, but Quinn knew they both had their eyes squeezed shut. "W-What do you mean?"

Quinn could feel it. Not just Rachel's nose brushed against her own or small, toned legs around her waist or wet hair now tangled with her own – no, she felt alive. Exhilarated. Like she wasn't just living a phantom life that God or her parents or society had set out for her. She was deviating from that precious Holy fucking path.

Hell, she was burning that stupid damn path to the ground.

"Let me show you what I mean."

With that, those words truer than anything she'd said or felt in a long time whispered along the side of Rachel's cheek, Quinn reconnected their lips.

If the last time was about reassurance then this was about proving a point – proving herself: proving something to Rachel and proving something to herself. Happiness could be there for her – for them both – even if it had to be at midnight while the rest of the world slept.

Quinn never thought that Rachel would feel anything for anyone who wasn't a six foot-plus, Broadway-worthy leading man and now she knew that wasn't the case Quinn really didn't give a shit about anything else.

Nothing made any sense but right now it didn't have to.

"Are you getting it?"

Quinn was glad to discover that Rachel was on the same page when she heard a breathed-out _"yes"_ in return.

She was pretty sure she'd be happy if things never made sense again: Quinn was throwing herself into the deep end it had never felt so good to let go.

* * *

" _Yes."_

She didn't get it – she didn't even really know what 'it' was – but she got it enough to know now that this meant something to Quinn too. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sheer exhilaration of having her feelings at least somewhat returned, but Rachel breathed the words into Quinn's ear before reconnecting their lips and wrapping her arms even tighter around the taller girl with no intention of ever letting go.

Rachel was helpless to do anything but moan when Quinn's tongue finally tangled with her own. It wasn't invasive or overbearing or anticlimactic like it had been with others: instead it was _everything._ It was wanting to crawl inside Quinn and have Quinn crawl inside her until neither of them even existed anymore.

There was no rush, no competition to it – it was frenzied only in the sense that they were desperate to explore each other. To share everything with each other that neither of them would or could say aloud.

Although it already felt like everything, Rachel needed more. As if reading her mind, she felt Quinn's strong, careful hands grip the backs of her thighs tighter and pull her further into her own lithe body.

She was so wrapped up in Quinn – literally and figuratively – it was only when she felt her body sink into a soft, engulfing mattress that she realised the blonde had been carrying them both towards the bed.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed.


	12. Bed Of Roses

Thank you for all the reviews - especially on the last chapter. I'm really glad that so many of you are enjoying this story. This chapter is named after and based on 'Bed Of Roses' by Bon Jovi.

* * *

Bed Of Roses

Rachel had always liked mornings. With a few rare exceptions – dentist appointments, anniversaries of the deaths of Broadway icons, etc - the sunbeams sneaking through curtains and onto her eyelids were always welcome. She disliked a lot of things about her daily routine: getting harassed in the halls, being alone at lunch, having to change out of slush-covered clothes in a severely unhygienic school bathroom…but mornings weren't one of them.

To Rachel, for the most part, each new morning signified one tick off a calendar that had New York and Broadway at its end. She made a point to meet each one with a bright, persevering smile.

Today wasn't one of those mornings.

"What the…" Rachel slapped a hand over her eyes when she was awoken by what felt like a spotlight shooting acid-beams directly onto her eyelids. Why was the sun coming from the right side of her bedroom?

Opening a small gap between her fingers, Rachel peaked with squinted (and pained) eyes. The sun was shining from the wrong side of her bedroom because she wasn't _in_ her bedroom!

Oh _Barbra!_

Wherever she'd awoken was _huge_ – the window alone was at least twice the size of what Rachel was used to and the bed she was captive in had grand, wooden pillars on each corner! What on _Earth_ was going on?!

Seized with panic, Rachel desperately tried to recall what on Earth had happened last night, which wasn't an easy task since her head felt like it was going to implode! Is that what all her peers meant when they spoke of hangovers?

' _Why on Barbra's Earth would people willingly put themselves through this every weekend?!'_

Rachel frowned and wracked (what was left of) her brains – something had happened with Finn…?

Images of Finn, drunken and angry, flashed before Rachel's eyes. He was angry and confused that she was at the party, but why?

As soon as she posed the question to herself, the answer played itself back in her memory:

" _I'm pretty sure I'd remember asking Puck to ask you to a party!"_

" _I didn't want to tell people that I got dumped by you!"_

" _Maybe I don't want to be your friend!"_

Rachel winced as she remembered their confrontation in fragments, feeling her stomach twinge. But that still didn't explain why she wasn't in her own bed or indeed _whose_ bed she was in…

It was strange what these 'hangovers' could do: in any other situation, Rachel would be out of this bed and whatever house she was in like a rocket, but right now her head was pounding and her eyes were stinging and, quite frankly, she could be in bed with Jacob Ben Israel and _still_ wouldn't move anytime soon.

She jumped when she felt cool breath against the back of her neck released by a soft sigh. At that, all of Rachel's sensory abilities seemed to return at once.

Someone was in bed with her! Someone was in bed with her and…and… _holding_ her!

' _Oh, Barbra! That feels like a woman's body! Yes, definitely a woman. At least I haven't been taken advantage of by some hulking Neanderthal football player…'_

Turning her head very slowly and as much as the arms wrapped around her would allow (arms! wrapped! around! her!), Rachel realised where she was. And who was holding her from behind.

Quinn Fabray. Quinn Fabray's slender, pale and _naked_ arm was wrapped around her middle. The entirety of Quinn Fabray's front was resting gently on the entirety of her back. Quinn Fabray was _spooning_ her. Quinn Fabray was spooning her in Quinn's Fabray's very own king-sized bed! Quinn Fabray had taken her home from the party after Nicole had thrown some disgusting concoction of alcohol and ice at her.

 _Quinn Fabray looked after her while she was drunk and throwing up._

Rachel's hands flew from covering her face to under the covers to rush over her own body, sighing in relief when she felt a loose, soft fabric covering her torso. "Thank Barbra," she whispered, discovering she did, indeed, still have clothes on.

Rachel let out a small gasp and slapped her free hand over her mouth when she remembered why she was concerned about her state of dress in the first place. _Quinn Fabray had…had…had…_

The rest of the night came flooding back to her just as harshly as the morning light had done five minutes ago.

* * *

 _Seven hours earlier_

Quinn had never been with anyone like this before. Sure, she'd maybe reluctantly rested on top of some irrelevant guy on her sofa (if they were lucky), but it was never anything like this. There was Puck, she supposed, but their bodies hadn't moulded together like hers and Rachel's were right now and besides, her body was about as responsive to his as a plank of wood.

No, this was something else entirely.

As soon as she gently dropped Rachel onto her bed, the girl let out a bashful giggle, "You're very strong."

Quinn smiled inwardly and into their kiss, following Rachel down and covering the small, toned body with her own. "Being head cheerleader has its perks," she whispered cockily into wanting lips, not bothering to hold back a moan at the feel of their bodies being together like this.

God, they didn't even have any clothes off yet and Quinn could already barely contain herself! Rachel's body beneath hers just felt _right:_ they fit so seamlessly together, like two juxtaposing forces bound together by a necessary fate, and their position gave Quinn a sense of control and power over it all that she desperately needed.

' _Why couldn't the whole world just start with this bedroom and end with Rachel?'_

They were kissing lazily now, tongues happy to explore new, exciting territory with the liberating knowledge that they weren't in any hurry. Nothing about tonight had been ordinary – their usual roles had been reversed, subverted, almost destroyed entirely – and Quinn had the feeling that neither of them felt like head cheerleader Quinn Fabray or Glee geek Rachel Berry right now.

Instead they were just two girls, enjoying each other and enjoying being unbridled by it all.

Quinn shifted so that she was straddling Rachel's legs and felt her chest beam when she looked down to see Rachel's now-ruffled hair resting against her very own Cheerios jacket. If happiness did exist in this world for Quinn, this was what it looked like.

"What is it?" Rachel half-whispered, half-pouted, looking up at Quinn with wide brown eyes shadowed with something that Quinn had never really seen in them before, and she'd spent _a lot_ of time looking into those eyes.

 _Lust._

"Nothing," Quinn whispered, lowering herself for a quick peck on those pouting, bruised lips before leaning back once more. A compliment nearly slipped from her lips just as all her kisses had, but she settled for something wordless – something better.

She smirked when she saw Rachel's eyes darken and heard the girl beneath her exhale sharply as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and discarded it somewhere on the floor.

"You're beautiful," Rachel whispered, eyes sparkling with sincerity, and Quinn was halted in her intentions for a moment. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before: she'd been called beautiful more times than she could count on a thousand grabby hands, but it had never been said to her like _that._ Her parents boasted it as though she were a prize; her boyfriends blurted it like she was a conquest – the ultimate notch in a bed post; her friends said it with envy, and Quinn could see beneath their eyes that if given the chance, they'd snatch it away from her in a heartbeat.

Rachel simply meant it. Sure, Quinn could see there was lust in those beautiful brown eyes raking over her naked torso, but there was also absolute adoration – it was unmistakable. The brunette didn't look like she wanted to take something from her; instead, Quinn could see that Rachel wanted to share something.

In a way, Rachel had always wanted to share something with Quinn.

If this were anyone else, Quinn would have smirked cockily and said _'I know'_ , but it wasn't anyone else. It was Rachel in a moment that she never thought she'd share with the other girl: tender, unhurried and sincere.

Quinn brushed her hands along the length of Rachel's arms before resting them at the back of the girl's shoulders. "Your turn," she murmured between kisses, encouraging the smaller girl to sit up enough to shed the Cheerios jacket she was still wearing.

Rachel looked great and adorable with it on, but Quinn knew she'd look even better with it off.

Tracing kisses along her jawline, Rachel seemed happy enough to remove the jacket as she sighed into Quinn's actions. But when Quinn's hands travelled down the girl's arms and to the hem of her t-shirt, she felt the girl stiffen.

Quinn frowned and looked up to meet Rachel's eyes but was met with a self-conscious, downwards-facing gaze.

She didn't need to ask what the problem was – she knew exactly what it was from the way she could feel Rachel's thumbs were now twiddling nervously at the back of her neck.

It was a problem that Quinn had almost exclusively created.

"I've never meant any of the things I've said to you," Quinn whispered without hesitation, letting go of the hem of the t-shirt and instead placing her hand on Rachel's cheek. "Look at me."

She waited – she knew that was important – for Rachel to hesitantly look up and into her own eyes. Quinn gulped down the regrets that were already piling in her throat because screw it – she could be honest with the girl just this once. Someone with a body and soul as beautiful as Rachel's didn't deserve to have eyes clouded with insecurity and muscles paralyzed by self-consciousness. No one did.

Quinn knew that all the things she said would inevitably have some effect on Rachel: the girl had a resolve made of iron, but she was still a girl – still a teenage girl. But the girl always took everything in her stride in a way that Lucy never could. Lucy had to change her face, hair, school and whole damn identity to carry the confidence that Rachel does every day.

But Quinn knew that it was an act: Rachel's own walls, just like Quinn's, were not impenetrable. No one could go through what Rachel goes through on a daily basis and have anything but a shattered self-esteem; Quinn knew that, deep down, but she'd never let herself think about it. Not until now, anyway.

Quinn haunted Rachel in the halls of McKinley High as an act of self-preservation. Her anger and conviction in doing so was fuelled by an insidious jealousy of everything the girl had that she didn't: parents that loved her unconditionally; a future outside of Lima and social fucking conservatism that didn't involve 2.4 kids and a white picket fence; the confidence not to change everything about herself simply to receive stares of envy from her classmates instead of sneers.

Quinn was a textbook bully in that sense, and she was happy to let people think that. Better they chip away at her armour and think that the surface they find there is the whole lot when it really, _really_ wasn't.

It's easy to tell herself that she hates Rachel for those reasons, but it's Rachel and not some other nameless McKinley weirdo for a reason.

She wouldn't care if Emma Hardy and her head brace had the nerve to flirt with her boyfriend in public: instead, she'd laugh from afar with her friends, take pictures to upload online and poke fun at just how _tragic_ it is and probably tease Finn about it, not threaten him within an inch of his life to stay away from her. Whenever she walks past Scott Brown at his locker, she barely notices that he and his dragon suspenders worn over a suit even exist, let alone makes the effort to stop and taunt him until the bell rings. If Elly Wood ever dared to speak to her in public, Quinn would probably scoff, roll her eyes and pretend that she wasn't even there – she certainly wouldn't feel all the blood rush to her head at the mere sight of the acne-ridden girl.

If literally anyone else in the school had a regularly updated MySpace account, Quinn wouldn't even know it existed.

Rachel was different because from the day Quinn first laid eyes on the firecracker brunette, the girl lit something in her that Quinn had been trying to put out ever since. She had a picture of Rachel and everything about her burned onto the back of her eyelids; she thought about her as often as she blinked – Quinn didn't even mean to. It was natural and it was the only unwanted thing that came naturally to Quinn that she couldn't destroy, ignore or modify.

 _Lesbo Loser Lucy_ she used to get called. For at least a year after knowing Rachel, she could practically _hear_ it singing in her ear every single time they crossed paths. Rachel had the power to destroy the life she'd made for herself – her good life since Lucy – and the smiling, blissfully ignorant brunette didn't even know it.

It infuriated Quinn. It made her angry and scared and sick and sad and it made her take it all out on Rachel. It kept Rachel at arms length but it kept her close at the same time.

In a sick, possessive sense, Quinn was glad that Rachel being _her_ target meant that she was nobody else's. Not their main target, anyway. It was almost as if Quinn had authority over the over girl and, really, it was the only true power Quinn felt she had.

But when Rachel finally looked back up at her, Quinn needed to unburden Rachel. She needed to unburden _herself._ Quinn could see the millions of questions the girl had just desperate to slip from her tongue and although she couldn't answer them, she needed to ease the worry plaguing the brunette's confidence.

"You aren't…y-you aren't all the things I say you are," Quinn began quietly, looking intensely into Rachel's eyes to try conveying what she'd never be able to say. Her voice was already cracking. "You shouldn't be insecure," she whispered, smiling softly and brushing her thumb lightly over Rachel's bottom lip. "I'm… I have my own issues; issues that aren't your fault, a-and I take them out on you."

Quinn paused to sniffle, realising that at some point during her mini-speech she'd started crying. Despite her tears, though, it actually felt kind of nice to say it – like a thick layer of weighted fog being slowly lifted from her chest.

"You're be-," Quinn stopped herself abruptly, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks. "You're the opposite of everything I say to you."

She watched intently as Rachel digested that, and the girl searching her eyes looked torn between scepticism and another sobbing fit.

"Apart from that you're annoying, because every time you tell me I'm sharp in Glee Club I kind of want to punch you," Quinn rushed out with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

By some miracle, it actually did. Whatever emotional whirlwind response Rachel was on the precipice of had effectively been quelled.

They shared a moment of silence, both simply searching the other's eyes for signs of _something_ , before bursting into a fit of tearful giggles.

It wasn't what Quinn expected, but it felt nice. It felt light. For the first time this whole evening, Quinn thanked God that Rachel was still a little bit drunk.

"And you are…exactly the opposite of _not_ sharp."

All the remaining heaviness between them dissipated at that, and Quinn narrowed her eyes at the grinning diva in of her. Its affect was probably weakened by Quinn's own grin that she couldn't get off her face!

"You're so dead."

"That's not the way to talk to a girl you're trying to get into a state of undress."

Literally no one but Berry could make that sentence sound sexy to her, Quinn mused.

"C'mere," she murmured, leaning in to reinitiate their kissing.

Completely lost in Rachel's soft, swollen lips, Quinn had honestly forgotten about why they'd stopped in the first place. That was until she suddenly felt the girl in her arms shift.

Oh God oh God oh God. Rachel had taken her top off.

Eyes still closed from the kissing and nose still brushing against Rachel's, Quinn kept her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. This was okay. She could deal with this. It didn't even feel like a big deal five minutes ago so why the hell did it feel like a big deal now?!

' _Maybe because you stopped long enough to think'_

' _Shut up!'_

Quinn took a deep breath and opened her eyes, daring to look down. Thinking, she thought, was exactly the problem between them.

She might have felt them last week in the locker room, but _seeing_ them was something else entirely. The tanned skin that Quinn wanted so desperately to taste and touch and just crawl into was so toned that Quinn was pretty sure Rachel would rival even her best Cheerios. Toned, but somehow still small and delicate – something to be cherished. When she finally allowed her eyes to travel up to what she was _really_ nervous about, Quinn wasn't met with a gold star-covered bra like she'd almost expected (although it would be cute in such a typical way if she was); instead, those small but round breasts that had haunted Quinn's every conscious and unconscious thought for the last week were covered by a black bra.

A black bra. Quinn saw them every single day in the Cheerios locker room, and even though her eyes sometimes lingered, she might as well have been blind up until right now.

How the hell did Berry make everything – from something as simple as a black bra to something as bizarre as half the things that come out of her mouth – so freaking sexy?

Without thinking, Quinn reconnected their lips once more but this time she pushed Rachel back down onto the mattress.

"You are," she started to accentuate each word with a kiss placed differently on Rachel's face each time, "so," forehead, "freaking," cheek, "beautiful," nose. At the last kiss, Rachel let out a shy giggle that made Quinn's heart flutter.

It was ridiculous, really, how giddy she felt. It was like the first hit at some addictive, euphoric drug you'd been avoiding your whole life.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met," Rachel murmured back in between kisses. It set Quinn on fire.

Kissing the girl beneath her with even more intensity than before, Quinn suddenly became acutely aware of their position and all the sensations it was shooting across her body. She could feel Rachel's breasts against her own; their legs tangled together; their centres pressing together through the confines of the jeans Quinn _definitely_ wanted to take off next…

"Is this okay?" Quinn breathed, almost frantically, as she ghosted her fingers along the bottom of Rachel's torso, desperate to explore the skin above.

"Mmhmm," the girl moaned in response, somehow managing to turn Quinn on even more.

Not needing to be told twice, Quinn inhaled sharply as she began trailing kisses down Rachel's neck, pausing to nip at the girl's pulse point, before making her way down to bra-clad breasts.

She continued her kisses along the parts of Rachel's breasts that weren't covered by the bra, not in any hurry, wanting to savour every moment of this. Quinn smirked into the kisses when Rachel let out a loud moan, obviously enjoying herself too much to hold back anymore, and silently thanked Brittany and Santana for their explicit but within earshot conversations she'd overheard over the years.

God, she wondered what Santana would think of _this._

' _Undo the bra, undo the bra'_

Quinn glanced up at Rachel, head thrown back in pleasure, and inched her hands up that tight stomach, squeezing at the skin she found there.

' _She's enjoying it; she probably wants you to take her bra off'_

Finally cupping Rachel's breasts and snaking back up the girl's body to reconnect their lips in a fiery explosion of craving, Quinn hissed hungrily when the girl met her intensity by biting her lip. Hard.

"D'you like that?" Quinn asked teasingly, smirking when Rachel gasped as she brushed her thumb over one nipple and squeezed the other. Yeah, she was seriously grateful for Santana and Brittany's detailed discussions about their sex life because, honestly? It was pretty much the only source of confidence Quinn had right now.

"Oh, Barbra!" the girl breathed out, sharing breath with Quinn, " _yes_." Quinn let out a small chuckle at that – only Rachel Berry could mention Barbra Streisand during sex and have it not be a total cold shower.

Wait, _sex?_ Is that where she was going with this? Quinn pulled away just enough to study Rachel who, to Quinn's _sincere_ satisfaction, didn't even seem on the same planet right now.

' _Would sex be such a bad thing?'_

Images of the last time she'd 'had sex' flooded her mind, making it difficult to carry on kissing Rachel since even the memory alone was enough to make her want to vomit.

' _It wouldn't be like that with Rachel – you've never felt like this in your life and you aren't even naked yet!'_

' _You've already sinned enough by having sex out of wedlock and being a repressed lesbian…one more indulgence would hardly hurt'_

Happy with her reasoning, Quinn pushed all doubts aside and carried on kissing Rachel, hoping the girl hadn't noticed her having a mini freak out. As if she'd read the Lesbian Kama Sutra back-to-front (she _hadn't!)_ she shifted ever-so-slightly on top of Rachel so that her thigh slid between the girl's legs.

Her move was met with yet another moan – from both of them. Fitting with Rachel like this… _moving_ with Rachel like this…who cares about an afterlife in heaven when it's already here, right now, in her bedroom?

Still, it seemed weird that Rachel was so…accommodating. She was pretty sure she'd heard the girl say she was keeping her virginity under lock-and-key until she was 25 (Quinn had never had a problem with that rule – good if it kept Finn and his grubby paws off – until now.)

' _She's still drunk – what if she's only doing this with you because she's drunk?'_

Quinn tried to kiss (and caress) away that thought.

' _She's enjoying it! I've asked her if it's okay!'_

Memories of Puck asking her if it was 'okay' too hit her like a freight train. Insecure, scared and only a year younger than she was now, she'd said yes.

Quinn said yes to Puck because she was drunk and because she wanted it for all the wrong reasons.

' _That is nowhere near the same'_

That was true: this _was_ nowhere near like _that night -_ Rachel was a more than active participant and didn't need _any_ convincing.

' _Didn't you take her home for this exact reason? To stop some asshole from taking advantage of her and having her wake up to a decision she wishes she hadn't made?'_

Quinn's entire body froze. Was she…taking advantage of Rachel? Would the Rachel Berry she knew be happy to undress for anyone, let alone her biggest high school tormentor, after only a few words of reassurance?

Sure, sober Rachel might have kissed her but this? This would be taking something from the girl that she'd never be able to give back.

Her own words from only a few hours ago rang through her ears: _'I don't want what happened to me to happen to you'_

How is losing your virginity to your high school bully when you're drunk any better than what happened to Quinn, really?

"We need to stop."

* * *

Quinn's words were enough to snap Rachel out of her daze. Slightly, anyway.

"What? Why?"

Rachel looked up at Quinn, who had now pulled away, practically threw herself off from on top of her and was now refusing to look make eye contact. Rachel's stomach dropped.

"Because we do."

The blonde's statement was rushed – nothing like the giggling, carefree Quinn she'd been acquainted with only minutes ago. Rachel could practically _hear_ Quinn's words before she even said them:

" _This was a mistake"… "Did you seriously think I'd want to be with you? You're repulsive"…_

Despite her best efforts to keep her composure, Rachel could already feel tears stinging her eyes.

"Oh, I see-

Quinn cut her off, "No! No, not because…b-because of you or anything."

She found that hard to believe, but at least Quinn's tone wasn't malicious and she'd yet to see any hint of an evil smirk. That being said, it was hard to see much of anything when Quinn wouldn't even look at her!

"Then why?" _What else could it be?_

Silence.

Mortified and feeling like she might literally just _die_ on the spot, Rachel channelled whatever movement her tingly limbs could muster right now and scrambled to cover herself and find the stupid t-shirt that she couldn't _fathom_ why she took off in the first place.

"What are you doing?"

Quinn's voice wasn't snappy or stony, which was enough to make Rachel hesitate. Quinn Fabray would be the death of her!

"I'm trying to cover myself and reclaim whatever dignity I have le-

"Shut up!" Rachel almost jumped when Quinn – sat unmoving beside her – whipped her head around to face her once more. The blonde looked frantic. "We need to stop because we're going too far, not because of you or whatever it is you're thinking right now."

Rachel searched Quinn's eyes and, for perhaps the first time ever, found nothing but sincerity there. It calmed her down considerably but also filled her with questions.

"You're probably right," she conceded, gesturing with a shy smile to their current states of undress.

"You're drunk," Quinn continued, as though Rachel still needed convincing.

"I feel quite sober now, relatively speaking."

"This shouldn't be happening."

Ah, there it is. Rachel felt an invisible fist clench her heart and made an effort, as best she could all things considered, not to look hurt. The last thing she wanted right now was to show any sign of weakness.

Rachel didn't respond, both because she had no idea what to say but also because she was scared she'd start crying if she did. No one ever wanted her, not really.

"I mean because…because…because you're a virgin a-and you're –

Rachel bristled. "How do you know that I'm a virgin?" How presumptuous!

The atmosphere in the room changed, then. Rachel could feel it, despite her relative insobriety: a strange, uncomfortable energy of jealousy and awkwardness lingered between them as they stared at each other.

She could see that Quinn was on her back foot slightly and the blonde definitely looked embarrassed about something…

"Y-You're always talking about how you want to wait until you're twenty-five," she eventually countered.

Rachel huffed – that was true. But _still!_

"Anyway, you were saying," she grumbled, looking somewhere over Quinn's head to avoid a _very_ intense hazel gaze.

She heard Quinn sigh and saw the girl run a hand through blonde locks in her peripheral. "I don't want to take advantage of you. I made a _very_ big mistake last year and I've regretted it every day ever since. God, half the reason I rescued you from that damn party was to stop something exactly like this from happening!"

Okay, so that wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear either.

Quinn actually sounded…vulnerable. Rachel flicked her eyes to the blonde's features and saw a different Quinn entirely: almost an exact resemblance to the fragility that she saw last year, when Quinn was pregnant and stripped of her power, carrying a burden of guilt, pain and confusion. Anger, too, but Rachel knew then and she saw now that the anger was directed inward.

Perhaps that was the definitive feature of Quinn's temperament, Rachel mused: whether the blonde's anger was internalised or externalised. She just knew that Quinn had a lot to be angry about.

"You can't compare yourself to Noah, Quinn, and you weren't taking advanta-

"I can, Rachel! Imagine if you'd have lost your virginity to your high school bully."

The sheer candidness of Quinn's statement stunned Rachel into a momentary silence.

"I mean, we weren't going to…" she trailed off because…what _were_ they going to do? What did she _want_ them to do, all of five minutes ago when they were tangled up in each other? She certainly hadn't wanted Quinn to stop at the time, but where _did_ she want the blonde to stop?

Would she have wanted her to stop at all if Quinn hadn't pulled away?

Quinn must have read her silence for what it was, "Exactly."

Still, the fact that it shouldn't have happened didn't change the fact that it did. Or that it felt so unbelievably, unforgettably good!

"I think all of your mood swings are giving me whiplash. This whole _situation_ is giving me whiplash."

The blonde chuckled quietly. "That might be your approaching hangover, actually."

It was remarkable, really, how the mood between them could change so effortlessly and constantly. Not ten minutes ago they were kissing; then they were both almost crying; and now they were laughing, albeit slightly forced.

Literally nothing made sense right now and being in the middle of a situation that made absolutely no sense went against Rachel's very nature! She felt like she was trying to walk a tightrope whilst wearing a blindfold with no idea whether she'd drop onto a mattress full of roses or a bed of nails.

"I just don't understand what's happening." Rachel ran a hand through her hair and slumped back against the headboard, careful to keep the sheets above her chest.

She heard the blonde sigh. "Yeah, neither do I."

For the time maybe ever, Rachel was happy to let a silence settle between them. How was any of this even happening? _Why_ was it even happening?

' _Even Quinn isn't that good a liar – it can't be a prank'_

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered what they'd been doing only minutes ago. It confounded all explanations and any words that Rachel could even hope to muster right now, but she just _knew_ from the blonde's touches that the other girl had meant them.

* * *

Quinn bit her lip and studied Rachel: the small brunette – somehow looking even tinier than usual in a way that made Quinn feel like a monster – was leaning against the headboard now, fists clenched in sheet edges being used to cover her shirtless body.

She hadn't even thought about her own state of undress, but now seemed like the right time to address it. She could tell that Rachel was starting to feel insecure, uncertain.

"I'll get you some PJs to wear."

Glad to have an excuse to get off the bed, Quinn walked across the room to the draw she kept her pyjamas in. She smiled to herself when she realised she'd be able to pick what Berry wore to bed: in other circumstances, this could be fun.

Quinn couldn't help but smirk when she dug out a pyjama set some nameless family friend had sent her for Christmas two years ago. Walking back towards the bed, Quinn dropped the shirt and bottoms nonchalantly onto the bed in front of Rachel.

It only took a few seconds for her to hear the indignant huff she wanted to hear so badly right now.

"Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs! Really, Quinn?"

Quinn couldn't help it: she bent over laughing, turning to face a huffing and reddening Rachel. "What? I thought they'd be _fitting_."

Berry was glowering at her but Quinn could tell the brunette was biting back a smile herself. They faux-glared at each other for a moment until the elephant in the room became apparent again.

"I'll, uh, give you some privacy," Quinn mumbled, sounding like some dumb inarticulate boy for not the first time tonight. Grabbing her own change of clothes, Quinn hastily headed to her en suite before Rachel could inevitably insist that privacy 'wasn't necessary'.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Quinn sank back against it. What had she _done?_ Taking the girl home and make sure she's safe was one thing but kissing her? Telling her that everything she'd ever said to her was a lie before kissing her again? There was no explaining her way out of it; no pretending that it hadn't happened.

She didn't even _want_ to explain her way out of it! She'd exposed enough now that as far as Rachel was concerned, at least, there was no point in denying what she'd already let slip. Rachel knowing some half-truths didn't mean the school had to and anyway, school wasn't even on Quinn's radar as she headed back into her bedroom after clearing her head and getting changed into some shorts and a loose shirt.

What Quinn saw when she did almost melted her.

"This isn't funny, Quinn."

Rachel was stood in front of the bed covered ankle-to-shoulders in soft, baby pink material decorated with what looked like at least two hundred cartoon dwarfs. The fierce glare the brunette was wearing only made it funnier.

God, she was so freaking cute!

"Oh, on the contrary; I think this is _very_ funny."

Rachel stomped her foot, much to Quinn's amusement, but at the same time she let out a yawn.

"You are evil, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn shrugged and headed towards her side of the bed, trying to keep her eyes off Rachel before she literally turned into a puddle on the floor. "So I've been told."

Pulling back the sheets and getting into bed, Quinn quirked a brow when she saw Rachel standing at the other side, staring at her blankly. "Um, is there a problem?"

"We're…we're sharing a bed?"

 _Wow, don't look so freaking horrified, Berry!_ Quinn swallowed the lump in her throat when she registered what looked like sheer horror on the girl's face. "All things considered, are you seriously not wanting to share a bed with me?"

Okay, so maybe she should have thought that through before saying it because now it sounded like she was begging Rachel to sleep next to her or something!

"I just don't want to intrude."

Oh.

Quinn eased up at that, remembering she was dealing with Rachel Berry, Queen of Good Manners. "The bed's big enough for the both of us, Berry."

At that, Rachel warily pulled back the sheets and got in at her own side. Then stayed irritatingly still.

"It just seems strange."

Ugh! "Seriously?"

"Us sharing a bed, I mean."

"And if you'd have told me a few hours ago that we'd be doing just that, I'd have you put in an institution." Quinn panicked when she felt Rachel stiffen and realised that sounded more like a threat than a joke. "B-But we are, and it isn't even really the weirdest thing to happen tonight," she added hurriedly.

God, she felt like Lucy's stupid rambling personality stuck in Quinn's body right now!

"I suppose you're right. You _did_ basically attack one of your Cheerios in defending my honour."

Quinn knew she should really be refuting the whole defending honour part, but all she could do was smirk at the reminder. "Yeah, well, Nadia is a useless bitch anyway."

"I thought her name was Nicole."

She had to be kidding! Quinn snorted, "Oh, my God!"

"What?"

Quinn clutched at her stomach and turned on her side to face Rachel. "I was _wondering_ what you'd done to piss her off so much but now it makes sense!"

Rachel frowned adorably and followed Quinn's lead, shuffling so that they were now both facing each other. "What _did_ I do? My memory is still rather foggy…"

"I mean, I wasn't there, but I'm pretty sure you just kept calling her by the wrong name or something. That's _hilarious_."

The brunette looked genuinely perplexed, which made it even funnier. God, this girl had _no_ idea! It was refreshing, really.

"I hardly see how forgetting someone's name I barely even know warrants what she di-

"Oh, my God, you so don't get it," she chuckled, only just stopping herself from reaching out and grabbing Rachel's hand. "The Cheerios are all about power and status. Perception is _everything._ As soon as people _think_ you're weak, that's when you _are_ weak."

"I don't see what that has to do with me calling Nicole the wrong name."

They both grinned at each other when Quinn realised that Rachel had done it on purpose this time.

"Because you, Rachel Berry, bottom of the social food chain, knew and cared so little about Nadia that you didn't even know her name. In the middle of a party. In front of all her friends. When she was probably trying to cash in on some popularity points by making fun of you."

Rachel stared at her blankly.

"You basically made her look stupid and irrelevant – which she _is_ – without even trying to."

Quinn had always found it admirable how little Rachel cared about all these things.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

It was endearing how genuinely flummoxed the brunette looked. "Yeah, it is."

"Cheerleader politics!"

"I guess that makes me the Obama of the McKinley High cheerleading world."

"No, I'd say you're more Kim Jong-un."

Quinn was silent for a minute, staring blankly at Rachel as the girl bit her lip in an attempt to suppress what was clearly a laughing fit.

Quinn beat her to it.

"Oh my God!" Quinn cackled, laughing in a way she hadn't in what felt like years. It wasn't fake or forced or _at_ someone; it was just deep, feel-it-in-your-belly laughter with another person. Another person that was Rachel, who was now giggling manically along with her.

They carried on laughing until Quinn wasn't even sure what they were laughing at anymore. She was pretty sure they were both just giddy: giddy with each other's company, giddy at being able to let go.

"Okay, okay," Rachel began, wiping tears from her eyes, "perhaps that's a little harsh."

" _Nicole_ would probably disagree with you there, Berry."

They erupted into giggles once more.

"Why did you do it, anyway?"

Yeah, _that_ stopped Quinn's laughter in its tracks. "Do what?"

"You know…defend me and throw her across the room."

"Oh, you remember that now, do you?" Okay, so maybe she was deflecting.

"It was quite the sight, Quinn."

Quinn chuckled uncomfortably. What was she meant to say?

 _It's only okay when I torment you?_ Yeah, not unless she wanted Berry to slap her with a restraining order and court-sanctioned therapy!

 _The sight of you crying and shaking made me want to throw up?_ No. Way. In. Hell.

 _You were obviously blind drunk and I didn't want some disgusting football player running his hands all over you like I just did less than a half hour ago?_ How had she even gotten herself into a position where this would be the least-toxic option?!

 _Something inside me snapped and the sight of them all laughing at you filled me with a murderous rage that was only stopped by the fact there were witnesses?_

Quinn considered her answer and looked at Rachel who was predictably doing that irritating thing she did where she just seemed to see straight through Quinn's soul.

"Nadia was a shitty cheerleader – it gave me an excuse to knock her down a peg."

She'd posed her answer as a joke and Rachel responded with a dry laugh. Quinn could tell from the way the brunette's smile dropped that even though the girl knew it was a joke, she was disappointed anyway.

Quinn let it go – she was used to disappointing the girl beside her anyway. If she gave away much more she wouldn't have anything left.

The atmosphere between them – soft, serene, simple – shifted slightly then. The precarious mood shifts between them were obviously the result of neither of them having any idea where the other stood.

Rachel opened her mouth and Quinn braced herself, but the girl simply yawned. It reminded Quinn of her aunt's chocolate Labrador puppy when it got tired.

"We should sleep."

The brunette nodded tiredly. "Yes."

They carried on staring at each other anyway, both sets of eyes asking the other a hundred questions: _what do you want from me? What are we doing? What will this mean tomorrow? Do you feel the same way I do?_

"Thank you for everything you did tonight, Quinn." The brunette said it quietly but Quinn knew it had a lot of hidden weight.

"Whatever, Berry," Quinn replied, but was careful to keep a playful smile, "you better get to sleep since, like popular rumour, I actually _do_ turn into a soul-sucking demon at night."

Rachel's eyes were drifting closed – an adorable side effect of the alcohol, Quinn suspected. Still, the ridiculously cute girl's tired lips still managed to release a lazy snicker. "You aren't all bad, Quinn Fabray."

It was hardly a resounding compliment, but Quinn still would take it. Every little moment like that between them seemed to quell whatever knee-jerk instinct Quinn usually had to respond with something mean.

Quinn found herself seriously jealous when, no more than two minutes later, Rachel began snoring softly. Even if she didn't just have the weirdest night of her life, Quinn still probably wouldn't manage to get to sleep in under an hour. Sleeping troubles were basically part of the baggage of being a Fabray.

Okay, so maybe it was kind of creepy to just lay there and watch the girl beside her sleep, but what else was there to do? Rachel didn't seem bothered that the bedside lamp was still shining and Quinn didn't really feel the need to turn it off just yet.

So she was a secret creeper – she could live with that. Who wouldn't be when they were next to someone that looked so freaking adorable when they slept?

When Rachel, clearly in a deep sleep, turned over to lay on her other side a few minutes later, Quinn felt her cheeks tinge with embarrassment even though she knew fine well that the sleeping girl wouldn't actually _know_ she'd just been staring at her for like half an hour.

' _Still, it's probably time to turn the light off because Rachel might not be able to see you but God sure as hell can'_

* * *

At some point in the night, Quinn woke up – she basically never got an undisturbed sleep.

She didn't mind so much this time, though, when she remembered whom the unmoving figure laying beside her was. Quinn was pretty sure Rachel hadn't moved an inch since they fell asleep hours ago; it was funny, really, how someone so energetic during the day could be so still and quiet at night.

Something about Rachel sleeping made Quinn's heart swell with affection even more than it did when the girl was awake. The beginnings of the morning light were shining through cracks in the curtains just enough for Quinn to make out that the brunette was sleeping in a ball on her side, managing to make herself look even tinier. Even _cuter._

Screw it – the girl obviously slept like a log anyway.

Edging forwards as quietly as she could (Quinn still didn't want to tempt fate since it clearly hated her), she eventually cuddled into Rachel's small frame. She thanked God it was dark because even He wouldn't see the goofy grin spreading across her lips.

Quinn had literally never spooned anyone before – she'd never let any boy get anywhere _near_ her bed and she was always irrationally scared that if she did on a sleepover then someone would just _tell_ she's a lesbian. Besides, Quinn wasn't an affectionate person anyway and the only friends she considered genuinely close were Santana and Brittany, and she wasn't going to 'cuddle' with them for obvious reasons.

But this? This just felt right. She'd spent the whole night at least _trying_ to protect Rachel anyway, so it only made sense that she was now cradling the sleeping girl in her arms.

Quinn fell back asleep with a smile.

* * *

 _Four hours later_

Rachel remembered it all now with striking clarity. Well, at least everything beyond getting in Quinn's car – the events preceding that were still slightly…blurry.

How on earth was she supposed to proceed from here?! Obviously she needed to move at some point (her lips were painfully dry and she _really_ needed to reach for the glass of water so kindly left at her bedside table), but doing so would probably wake Quinn and Rachel really didn't feel ready to face _that_ music.

Oh, Barbra, and her Dads! She'd completely forgotten about her Dads! They were probably _frantic_ with worry over her whereabouts as she was just laying there uselessly since she very much doubted she had the sense last night to send a routine goodnight text!

She didn't have long to worry about it, though, because she could feel Quinn stirring into wakefulness behind her!

All worries about her Dads or hangovers or what on Earth happened in full at the party flew from her mind as it instead split into three very distinct avenues: fight, flight or, well, face the music, whatever that may be.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed.


	13. Affection

Hi guys, sorry for the delay in this chapter and thanks so much for all the reviews! It really does make writing this all the more worth it. This chapter was initially going to be longer, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting so I've cut it a bit. Good news, though, is that a next (and much longer) chapter will be up in less than a week. Promise!

Also, I want to address some (rightful) concerns from readers: Obviously, the way Quinn has treated Rachel is awful, both in the show but more so in this story. What's also obvious, both in the show and this story, is that Rachel is arguably too kind, trusting and forgiving of Quinn. That being said, Rachel's trustingness and forgiveness of Quinn is part of Faberry's charm. In the real world, people sometimes accept shitty behaviour when they shouldn't; that's the reality and truth of some people's stories. However, with time, hopefully the 'victim' in a situation will come to recognise that and no longer accept the shitty treatment. In the case of this story, Rachel will stand on her own two feet and start to stand up for herself. I'm trying in my characterisation to walk the fine line between Rachel's inherent kindness and insecurities alongside her strength and resilience.

This chapter is named after the song 'Affection' by Cigarettes After Sex. It's a pretty good Faberry song, imo.

* * *

Affection

"Good morning, Quinn."

Quinn barely registered the nervous greeting from the girl beside her as she shot up and away from Rachel like one of Coach Sylvester's human-shooting cannons. She could literally _feel_ Rachel's eyes on her and the weird awkward tension ricocheting between them.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the other girl when she mumbled out a 'hi' in return.

Quinn heard Rachel clear her throat ceremoniously. _Crap._ "I want you to know, Quinn, that I am very grateful for everything you did last night. Despite still being confused as to _why_ you did what you did, I am now convinced that you actions were at least sincere." Quinn bristled at that but she couldn't really argue when she didn't know if the brunette meant helping her or all but ravaging her – or both. Besides it was way too early in the day for this. "However, if you intend on using last night's… _events_ against me, then I need you to know that I won't tolerate it."

Okay, so _that_ caught her attention enough to finally look at Rachel because…what the hell was that supposed to mean? "Excuse me?"

Quinn almost smiled when looking at the girl reminded her of the pyjamas she'd given her last night; she'd never seen Rachel with sleep-ruffled hair or morning eyes before and it looked seriously cute.

"I think you heard me. Unreservedly grateful though I am, I will not have anything that… _happened_ used against me."

"What do you…" she trailed off and tilted her head, studying Rachel who was doing an admirable job of looking unaffected and confident. It would work on anyone else, Quinn thought, but she was a master at this game and the brunette nervously picking at the bottom of her PJ top didn't go unnoticed to her. "Why would I use any of that against you?"

Rachel scoffed and Quinn narrowed her eyes; the brunette didn't have to speak for Quinn to know what she was getting at there.

"Look, I'm a bitch and the boogieman of your high school nightmares but seriously, Berry? I destroyed Nadia in front of the whole school and even _I_ couldn't spin that to make you look stupid."

"I didn't mean the Nadia thing," Rachel mumbled, and Quinn frowned when she saw those tired brown orbs look down at small hands now clutched together in her lap.

She should have seen it coming, really, but it still sent thrums of red-hot panic across her body. Quinn knew she wouldn't be able to pretend their kiss never happened – not this time, anyway – but she didn't expect to be confronted with it when she'd been awake less than five freaking minutes!

Then again, since when was Berry the type to leave anything unsaid? But the girl must still be drunk if she thinks Quinn would _use it against_ her since that would involve telling anyone it happened in the first place!

"Berry, I would literally rather marry JewFro than tell anyone _anything_ about what happened."

"But why not?"

Quinn couldn't help but scoff because seriously? How naïve could Rachel be!

"Um, because I'd have to… _tell people about what happened?_ 'Quinn Fabray – from pregnant to latent lesbian' isn't exactly the kind of attention I need right now, Rachel."

Rachel stopped picking at the invisible spot on her shirt then and Quinn had the feeling she'd just said something really, really dumb.

"You're a lesbian?"

Fuck!

"NO!" she barked out, her voice too loud and shrill for even the reliably naïve Rachel to believe. Shit! "But that's what people would say," she rushed, trying to compose herself. Technically that last part was true, but Rachel didn't need to know that what people would _say_ would be right.

Rachel blinked and stared at her blankly in a way that made Quinn feel like she was under a microglass with a lie detector attached to her chest that would detonate if she said the wrong thing. "But you just said you were a l –

"No I didn't, it was a figure of speech!" Quinn took a deep, calming breath and ignored Rachel's raised eyebrow. "I'm _not_ a lesbian, but if I told anyone about what happened last night – even if it _was_ to humiliate you," she added that sulkily, knowing it's what Rachel was thinking, "they'd all _say_ that I am."

Satisfied with her explanation, Quinn relaxed a little.

"Okay, but I have a question."

She sighed under her breath but it came out decidedly gentle and quiet considering. "Which is?"

"Why did you kiss me, then? And…everything else."

Their eyes met again at that and the way Rachel looked so genuine honestly made Quinn feel worse; she'd have preferred it if the girl's eyes were full of malice and the promise of secrets. It was harder to lie to when someone was asking a difficult question for no other reason than wanting to know the truth.

What could she even say, anyway? Denying that she enjoyed it was pointless; dismissing it as a prank was off the table since she'd already convinced the girl that wasn't the case; and calling it a 'one time thing' wouldn't work because she'd let it happen three times now! She hadn't even just _let it happen:_ she'd _made_ it happen!

"I'm not talking about it."

Quinn had three reliable, overused tactics when confronted with things she didn't want to deal with: lie, lash out, or lock out. Since the first two were out of the question, she didn't see what choice she had but to go with the third.

"Why not?"

Ugh! "Because I'm not."

"Well I want to talk about it."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at the girl now cross-legged beside her and Rachel matched the glare by crossing her arms over her chest and staring at Quinn determinedly. Not for the first time, Quinn cursed God for making her fall in love with someone that was worse at letting go of things than a freaking magnet. Still, she found herself fighting back a small smile at Rachel's pitiful but adorable attempt to look intimidating.

"Why can't you just let it go for once?"

"Why can't you just be open and honest for once?"

Quinn clenched her fists and dug them into the mattress either side of her legs and fought down the familiar bile of Rachel hitting way too close to home. "Just drop it, Berry."

"How do you expect me to simply _drop it,_ Quinn? I was willing to brush off the first time as part of a wider ploy to humiliate me but after last night I know that isn't the case!"

It was both sad and strange that Quinn found herself wanting to reassure Rachel that it wasn't a prank but also convince her that it was at the same time.

"Look –

She was interrupted by the sound of Don't Rain On My Parade blaring from somewhere beside Rachel. They both jumped.

"My Dads!" Quinn watched in mild amusement despite everything as the tiny brunette scrambled to the bedside table and grabbed a pink, _bedazzled_ phone. Of _course_ Berry would have Barbra Streisand as her ringtone, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

"Hi Dad, Daddy!" Rachel squeaked; sounding too high pitched in Quinn's opinion to be taken seriously. Then again, Rachel's parents probably weren't suspicious of her every word. Must be nice.

She watched intently as Rachel bit her plump (and bruised) lower lip, listening to what sounded like a frantic male voice on the other end being occasionally interrupted by a deeper, calmer one.

"Daddy, I –

More frantic rambling that Quinn couldn't quite make out interrupted the brunette.

"My phone died!"

Rachel looked at Quinn then, who quickly looked away and tried to pretend like she wasn't listening intently to literally every inaudible word.

"We stayed up very late watching Broadway adaptions of Victorian novels."

Quinn's eyes snapped back to Rachel then because _seriously?_ The lie was so specific and elaborate that she could barely believe it came from someone that probably couldn't even bring herself to tell a toddler they didn't have a crappy vocal range.

"I know, I know. But I wanted to enjoy time with the girls, you know?"

Okay, so maybe Rachel was a better liar than Quinn had given her credit for.

"Yes, I did have a good time."

Quinn bit her lip guiltily then, her stomach twisting when she realised Rachel's Dads were probably so curious and worried about last night because it was the first time their daughter had been anywhere with a friend since, like, kindergarten.

"Yes, I'll be home later. I should probably go to preserve my battery. Love you Dad, Daddy."

With that, Quinn watched Rachel hang up and place the phone back on the bedside table. "They were worried as they hadn't heard from me," Rachel mumbled, obviously embarrassed but Quinn didn't know why.

"It's nice that they care so much."

Quinn knew she sounded envious but Rachel had the grace to ignore it. It was a silent understanding that made her want to just spill her heart to the brunette because she knew there wasn't anything she could say that Rachel wouldn't respond to with support and kindness.

"I'm not gay," she began, knowing Rachel would bring the conversation back to where it had left off anyway. Obviously she was lying, but its execution was made easier knowing that what she was about to say next was way closer to the truth than she ever thought she'd get with anyone. "But I…I liked kissing you. I _like_ kissing you," she admitted.

"I think that much is obvious."

They stared at each other blankly for a moment then, Quinn kind of weirdly thrilled by Rachel's audacity, before both laughing quietly.

"Pot. Kettle."

Rachel shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips that Quinn couldn't help but return. It felt terrifying and awful but also exhilarating and freeing to say something that resembled the truth for once to someone she knew wouldn't judge her.

"Why me?"

* * *

She'd been told before that she had a knack for ruining the moment, but Rachel couldn't help it. Their shared moment of reprieve wasn't going to last much longer anyway, and she'd rather push for more answers before Quinn could inevitably steer the conversation elsewhere. If she left this room without _some_ kind of answer about what on Earth's been going on between them during the last week, she was going to have a nervous breakdown!

"What?"

She wasn't sure if Quinn was genuinely oblivious or intentionally evasive. "Why do you _like_ kissing me? Why do you even kiss me in the first place?"

Obviously Quinn liked kissing her – even the blonde wasn't _that_ good an actress – but that still didn't explain why she kissed her at all. Rachel was pretty sure on a list of every living person on the planet, she'd come around seven billionth on who Quinn would want to kiss.

Even though she was afraid to hear the answer, she couldn't keep her eyes off Quinn, who now looked visibly conflicted and bordering on distraught. She almost reached forward to place her hand over the blonde's, if only to ease out the truth, but she resisted (by placing her own hands under her bottom).

She watched as the blonde bit her lower lip. "I…don't know."

Rachel sighed both inside and out. "I mean…you've made it quite clear that you think I'm repulsive." She tried to make it sound like a question rather than an open wound.

There was a silence, then, and Rachel looked back to her crossed legs. No doubt Quinn was about to say something that would burst whatever relatively truthful bubble they were in.

"I don't."

"You don't what?"

"I don't think you're repulsive."

"How oddly romantic," she said sarcastically.

"You said you weren't gay."

Rachel's eyes snapped back to Quinn, who was sat cross-legged and biting her lip. She was honestly starting to feel quite annoyed; _'I don't think you're repulsive'_ is hardly a satisfying conclusion to that part of their discussion!

"Is that a question?"

"You said you weren't gay but then we…"

"I'm not gay, Quinn," she snapped, feeling both confused and irritated by Quinn's line of questioning. "By your logic, that would make _you_ gay as well, which you have just insisted you aren't."

Hah!

She expected a witty retort or even to be snapped at, but instead Quinn just looked at her with further confusion and barely-concealed panic.

"So…"

"I'm bisexual."

Quinn stared at her dumbly. "What?"

How was this so difficult for the blonde?! Presumably, if she herself wasn't gay but liked kissing other girls, then that surely made Quinn bisexual too!

"I'm bisexual. I'm attracted emotionally and sexually to both men and women. Girls like girls and girls like boys, Quinn – it's nothing new."

She watched as Quinn digested that, anxious for any signs of malice on the blonde's features since she'd essentially just handed the other girl the final nail in her social coffin. Thankfully, she saw none – if anything, the taller girl still cross-legged opposite her looked quietly relieved.

"Okay."

Quinn was clearly lost for words, but Rachel was more than happy to steer the conversation back where it needed to be. "Anyway, _as I just asked_ : why me?"

When the blonde didn't say anything, Rachel continued, "Clearly you're interested in exploring your sexuality, but I want to know why you are doing so with me as, like I said, you have never shown anything but utter disdain for me."

"I just got caught up in the moment."

"What moment would that be, Quinn? If memory serves me correctly, there's been at least three."

"I don't know, all of them!"

"Do you get caught up in the moment with other girls?"

Okay, so that had sounded strangely jealous rather than how it had _meant_ to sound, which was simply curious as to where she stood with the other girl. That being said, the thought of Quinn getting _caught up in the moment_ with other girls didn't exactly leave a pleasant taste on her tongue…

"No."

It was said so quietly, as if a secret more shameful than sin itself, that Rachel, for perhaps the first time ever, knew that Quinn was telling her the complete truth.

"So why me? Of all the girls in all the world, why pick someone y-

"I think you're hot, okay!"

Oh _Barbra!_ "Excuse me?" Surely she'd heard her wrong.

"I think you're hot," Quinn rushed out again, albeit quieter this time. If it weren't for the deep blush painted on otherwise pale blonde cheeks then Rachel would never have believed it.

"You think I'm… _hot?_ "

"Yes, now can we please drop it!"

Perhaps it was the way she, Rachel Berry, had actually managed to render Quinn Fabray a flustered mess. Maybe it was the fact that _Quinn Fabray_ thought that she, Rachel Berry, was _hot_! Either way, Rachel could feel herself practically melting and was _more_ than happy to drop it - for the time being, at least.

Silence manifested itself yet again between them as Rachel processed the news that Quinn actually found her something other than repugnant. She didn't really know what was going on in the blonde's head, but whatever it was had just called her _hot_ so she didn't really care right now.

* * *

Fuck it.

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

What was the point in denying that she found Rachel attractive anyway? It was glaringly obvious and they'd come this far. God, it's hardly like she'd just climbed to the top of the cheer pyramid and yelled _'I'm gay for Rachel Berry'_ from a megaphone!

"Look, that doesn't mean I'm in love with you or whatever," she grumbled, convincing considering it was a blatant lie.

She heard Rachel guffaw (heard, because she found herself unable to took the girl in the eye again). "I might be a romantic, Quinn, but I'm not _stupid_."

Quinn almost laughed.

"How long have you found me…attractive?"

That question was expected, and Quinn had prepared for it. "Since I was pregnant. Baby hormones."

"Oh, I see." There was a brief, dejected pause that almost made Quinn recant her bullshit and tell the truth. "Perhaps the hormones increased your sex drive which in turn unlocked the part of you that is attracted to women. Sexuality is fluid, after all."

Quinn wondered if anyone in the whole wicked world was quite like Rachel Berry.

"Yeah."

"But…you've always been so _mean._ None of this makes sense to me."

Quinn dismissed that easily with the shrug of a shoulder. "I'm a bitch; _someone's_ bound to get the brunt of that."

It was testament to how badly she must have damaged the girl's self esteem over the years when Rachel accepted that without disagreement.

"That doesn't mean that any of the things I say are true," she added hastily, in part to ease her own guilt. "It's what's expected of me."

"Why?"

Shit!

"Why is it expected of you? We're only in high school, Quinn – life is much bigger than high school."

She couldn't help it: Rachel's tone was so delicate and understanding that she couldn't help but look up again to meet those encompassing brown orbs. The briefest transference of unadulterated affection was shared between them.

"It isn't for me."

If she'd said that to anyone else, their face would have scrunched with misunderstanding and confusion. They'd have asked her what she meant by that because, obviously, life _does_ go on after high school. Time ticks stubbornly on, people get married, have 2.4 kids, build a picket fence, etc.

Rachel didn't do that, though. Instead, silently and without spectacle, a small, tanned hand reached out and covered her own. "Quinn, you're so much more than what you think you are."

Quinn scoffed. "And you're so much more than all the awful crap I've put you through."

It was expected and surprising at the same time when she heard a soft, melodic laugh, "I know."

Quinn had always respected Rachel for her sense of humour in the face of adversity: it was one of her more underrated features.

They looked at each other again then, both smiling sadly and without expectation. It was nice and sad and soft and fucking awful all at the same time.

Rachel, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence. "I feel like we aren't in the right universe right now."

"Same. Everything feels like a mess." It was strange how easily those words slipped from her tongue.

"It's kind of nice though, isn't it?"

She'd looked away from Rachel but could feel the girl's smile: it _was_ nice, in its own way. "I guess."

"Quinn, I…"

Rachel trailed off, and Quinn knew from the crack in the girl's voice what she was going to ask.

 _What does this mean? What will things be like on Monday?_

She didn't need to finish her sentence; their connection had gone beyond telepathic years ago. Quinn was asking herself the same thing, so it only made sense. The problem was she didn't have any answers.

"D'you want to hang out? Today, I mean," she found herself asking. She already knew that not much could change between them without risk of burning her life to the ground, but you can't uncross a line once its already crossed. Hanging out for the rest of the day was hardly going to do more harm than they'd already done, right?

Quinn figured that she took Rachel by surprise, because the ever-talkative brunette was shocked into a stunned silence for a moment.

Only a moment, though: "What do you have in mind?"

Quinn felt herself smirk.

* * *

More soon, I promise! Keep up the reviews! Hope you enjoyed.


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